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THE MYSTERY 


OF THE 

SANDAL-WOOD BOX 


BEING AN ADVENTURE OF HARLAN NIMS 
THE AMATEUR AMERICAN 
DETECTIVE 

BY 

Melville Clemens Barnard 




1907 

MAYHEW PUBLISHING CO. 
BOSTON 



UBHAfiY of C^)h«SW-'.3a 
fwo copies 

APR 3 li^OS 

jv'u^riK'K £.nir.v 
^'llcu4 2-3 

I'JLASis AXc. rtu. 

1 ^2.0 <^<o • • 

i C'OHY 6. 


COPYRIGHTED, 1907 
BY 

Melville Clemens Barnard 








hA 


* ^ 
V , , j 

m 


m . 


DeMcation 


TO ALL OF MY 
FRIENDS 

BEHIND THE BARS 
■ ' IN THE 

DIFFERENT BANKING INSTITUTIONS 

OF THIS COUNTRY 

HONEST IN DETAIL 
UNSWERVING IN LOYALTY 
AND 

EVER TO BE FOUND ' 

AT THEIR 

POST OF DUTY 

I 

A MEMBER OF 
THE 
B. O. A. 

AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBE 


THIS VOLUME. 


Unbei 


CHAPTER I. 

The Robbery of Mrs. Stokes i 

CHAPTER II. 

The Director’s Story 6 

CHAPTER HI. 

A Manipulation in Stocks 8 

CHAPTER IV. 

Murder 12 

CHAPTER V. 

The Force of Personality 17 

CHAPTER VI. 

Nims Disagrees with the Boston Detectives. . . . 21 

CHAPTER VH. 

Sizing up One of the “Professionals.” .... 26 

CHAPTER VHI. 

The Little Dwarf Man 30 

CHAPTER IX. 

In the Laboratory 33 

CHAPTER X. 

The President Receives a Caller 38 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Liberality of Congressman Hart 41 


« 

CHAPTER XII. 

An Interview with Boston Bank Officials. . > . 43 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Slocum Booms Mabel Consolidated 45 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Foster on Present Bank Methods 48 

CHAPTER XV. 

A Tom Harris Advertisement 51 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Visit to a Notorious Note Broker 54 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Spite of a “Red Devil.” 57 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A Battle of Giants. 60 

CHAPTER XIX. 

By the Hand of Nims 63 

CHAPTER XX. 

Briggs and Walker Again in the Lime-light. ... 67 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The Little Dwarf Man Re-appears 70 

CHAPTER XXII 

In the Laboratory Again. 72 


The Simple Life. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


78 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


8o 


The Strenuous Life 

CHAPTER XXV. 

The Robbers’ Revenge 84 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

A Message From Nims 88 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

A Race for Life 91 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Nims and the Reporter 94 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

For The Sake of One 97 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Identifying Criminals 100 









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miuetratione. 

PAGE 

Frontispiece. / 

“In her hand she held a photo, it was that of Nims taken 

WHEN HE HAD GRADUATED FROM HiGH SCHOOL.” . . . 36 

“She seemed dazed at what this all meant, but before she 

COULD QUESTION HIM HE HAD GIVEN HER ANOTHER KISS AND 
PASSED OUT OF THE DOOR.” 80 ^ 

“There was a flutter of wings, an exclamation of surprise ^ 

FROM OUTSIDE, A CURSE, A SHOT, THEN SILENCE.” ... 98 


CHAPTER i. 


The Robbery of Mrs. Stokes. 

The bank man finds Saturday a busy day because the bank doors are 
closed at 12 m. This means that the business man, too, must hasten if 
he desires to get the funds for his weekly pay-roll from that institution. 

Hence, Saturday is familiarly known by the name of “bankers’ half- 
holiday.” 

Harlan Nims, the bookkeeper, was busy that morning getting out the 
day’s balances. He was a fine-looking fellow of athletic figure, with a 
strong face, intellectual brow, firm mouth, and a pair of very keen, search- 
ing eyes. Educating himself at his own expense, he had been spending 
his summers in the bank to earn the money necessary to enable him to 
carry out this desire. He was in his last year at college, where he had 
taken a special course in chemistry and physics, lines of study in which 
he was particularly interested. He was also a very deep student of the 
complex science of criminology, and had made keen and successful deduc- 
tions in several intricate mysteries which his friend, Leonard Hall, the 
detective, had made good use of, and which had caused him to exclaim 
one day, “Nims, you would make your mark as a professional.” 

To which Nims had replied casually, “Oh, perhaps some day I will 
drift into it. I am certainly very much interested in it as an amateur.” 

Just then the clock struck ten, and Nims at the same moment finished get- 
ting out his balances. He laid down his pen, stretched his arms and yawned, 
then turned around to speak to the paying teller regarding an overdraft 
in one of the accounts. As he did so his eye was attracted by a man who 
had entered the bank, but not with the general rush and hurry which 
characterizes the business man who realizes that bank doors on Saturday 
are closed at noon. 

Apparently he was in no hurry, and glanced around with a concentra- 
tion that seemed to take in everything. In his hand he carried what looked 
like a lawyer’s bag. 

“The electrician,” was Nims’ careless thought, as the new-comer dis- 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 

appeared in the washroom. Nevertheless, he felt a certain unaccountable 
attraction and interest in him. Immediately, however, his attention was 
directed towards the window, as a coupe drawn by a magnificent span 
of bays rolled up to the door, both men on the box being in livery. The 
footman descended, opened the door, and Nims exclaimed to himself: 

‘‘Why, it’s Mrs. Stokes! I wonder why she comes to-day instead of 
her husband.” 

Mrs. Stokes, the wife of the owner of the principal cotton mill in Granby, 
came bustling up the stairs, all out of breath, whether from her climb or 
the importance of her mission, no one knew. She informed the paying 
teller in a whisper that could be heard all over the bank that Mr. Stokes 
had been taken ill suddenly and adding “He wanted me to get the money 
for the pay-roll for the operators in the mill,” passed the usual weekly 
check over the counter. 

The paying teller turned it over carefully and then said mildly, “If 
you will kindly endorse the check, I will be glad to accommodate you.” 

“How stupid of me to forget,” rejoined Mrs. Stokes, nervously, as she 
stepped over to the little side desk, and endorsed it, — upside down, as 
all good women generally do. 

She soon returned, presented it again, and the paying teller counted 
her out an amount covering the pay-roll for the Jefferson Mills. After 
spending about fifteen minutes in fingering and re-fingering the bills, 
Mrs. Stokes finally agreed that her count coincided with that of the pay- 
ing teller, and disappeared down the stairs with an air of importance. 

At the same moment Nims’ attention was attracted by the stranger 
whom he had noticed some time before. Soon after Mrs. Stokes had 
left the man stepped to the writing desk, removed his hat, picked up a 
pen, and put it behind his ear, glancing hurriedly around as he did so, 
stepped into the hall and disappeared. 

A moment later he returned with the bag still in his hand, walked coolly 
to the desk, picked up his hat, and crossing the room, descended to the 
street by means of the elevator in the rear. 

Five minutes later the Stokes’ footman approached the paying teller 
and demanded to know how much longer Mrs. Stokes was to be kept 
waiting. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


3 


“What!” exclaimd the paying teller, stopping the counting of the bills 
he was just about to pay out, his head poised in midair and echoing the 
question, “How much longer is she to be kept waiting? 

“Yes, sir,” replied that worthy. 

“Tell Mrs. Stokes,” indignantly returned the paying teller, his face 
reddening, “that she need not wait any longer for me, as I cashed her 
check some time ago, and she verified the count.” 

The footman disappeared, but soon returned with his mistress. She 
had lost her air of importance and self-complacency and had assumed 
one of righteous indignation and unconcealed anger. 

“I’ll have you understand, sir,” she began, glaring at the perplexed 
paying teller, “that my demands, whether presented in person or by my 
servant, are to be attended to.” 

Her voice rose till it filled the room and attracted the attention of both 
President Stone and Cashier Preston. Both started immediately for the 
seat of trouble — the paying teller’s window. Bank men know the value 
of good clients and the Jefferson Mills’ account was one of their largest. 
They did not care to have it withdrawn. 

The approach of the brisk and business-like cashier and the dignified 
president seemed to pacify the indignant lady somewhat. She decided 
not to be too severe in her arraignment of the paying teller, who was plainly 
getting old, and whose place would probably soon be taken by another. 

To the united inquiry of the two she replied that she might have been 
a little vexed, but did not see why it should be necessary for the paying 
teller to keep her waiting so long, as it could have been only a moment’s 
work for him to recount the pay-roll funds she had just received from 
him. 

Both turned towards that individual. He was the picture of blank 
amazement. 

“Recount the pay-roll,” he exclaimed, “why should I recount it? Did 
you not agree with me?” 

“Yes, I know I did,” returned the lady, “but if you did not want to 
recount it, why did you send down for it?” 

“Madam,” he replied, quietly, “you are mistaken, I did not ask for 
a recount.” 


4 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


The look she gave the paying teller in return cannot be described. 

President Stone here interposed, however, and said smoothly, “Will 
you kindly give me details, and we will gladly straighten matters out.” 

The president had a marvellous way of dealing with people and set- 
tling difficulties that won for him the admiration and respect of all. 

“Certainly,” was the immediate response. “I had just entered my 
carriage and prepared to return, when one of the clerks came down stairs 
and said that the paying teller had made an error in counting out the 
pay-roll, and he asked me if I would kindly let him have it for a moment, 
and yet, when I sent my footman up here for it, he practically denied 
having received it.” 

“Are the clerks all here, Preston ?” inquired President Stone of his 
companion. 

The cashier glanced around and replied presently, “Yes, sir. Even 
the messenger has not started on his route.” 

“Now, Mrs. Stokes,” said the president, turning towards her, “I want 
to ask you one question. Could you identify the clerk who obtained 
the pay-roll?” 

“I could,” was her positive reply. 

“Will you kindly point out which clerk approached you for it?” 

Mrs. Stokes carefully studied each face, then shook her head — “Not 
one of these.” 

“Are you sure it was some one connected with this institution ?” again 
queried the president. 

“He must have been,” declared Mrs. Stokes helplessly, “he was bare- 
headed and — ” 

“But that” — interposed the president. 

“And had a pen behind his ear,” she added, as conclusive proof. 

“Just a moment,” exclaimed Nims, who, perched on his stool had been 
an interested Ifstener, and who now jumped down and came outside the 
wire enclosure. “I guess I can give you the solution of the whole matter” 
— and he told what he had observed. 

“It’s an old trick,” added Nims. “I heard of something of the same 
kind happening in a bank in England.” 

That evening when Nims was in the wash-room cleaning out his ink- 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


5 


wells; and filling them for Monday’s business — which was his custom 
every Saturday night, — he picked up a small instrument that looked 
something like a cartridge with a long needle point, saying to himself 
exultantly, “I believe I’ve got a clue.” Later, as he wended his way 
homeward, thinking over the exciting events of the day, he asked himself 
the question, “Why had this man appeared in the bank on such a busy 
day as Saturday?” The cashier and president to a similar query from 
him had answered, “To rob Mrs. Stokes,” but this did not solve the matter 
for Nims. No one had known that Mrs. Stokes would come that day to 
the bank, even the bank officers not having been notified by ’phone, and 
Mrs. Stokes herself had announced that her husband had suddenly en- 
trusted her with the duty. 

“The thief simply took advantage of his opportunity, that’s all,” de- 
ducted Nims. “He had other plans laid but seeing a chance to do a 
sneak act had resorted to an old trick. We will hear from him again 
soon,” said Nims, and he was not mistaken. 


CHAPTER II. 


The Director’s Story. 

“The man was a miserable sneak thief,” declared the president in 
conversation with one of the directors later. “The case is already in the 
hands of the police.” 

They were seated in the spacious dining room of the Stone mansion, 
having just finished the usual elaborate and rather formal dinner and 
pushed back their chairs for a quiet smoke and chat. 

Helen, his daughter, had been hostess, but when the meal was over had 
left the two to their cigars. 

Naturally their conversation turned to the robbery of Mrs. Stokes. 

“Sneak thief, no doubt,” replied the other, upholding the belief of the 
older man. Then, getting reminiscent, he added: 

“The only experience I ever had with such fellows happened almost 
fifteen years ago — before I came to Granby. It was on the day of my 
daughter Eva’s wedding. She and her mother had planned quite a func- 
tion, and had ordered a fruit cake of the local caterer to help grace the 
occasion. It was agreed that I should get it, and to that end she supplied 
me with a large but strong paste-board box, fearing the caterer might not 
have one heavy enough for it. I had a tin box in which I carried valuable 
papers quite frequently between my office and the bank, and on the morn- 
ing in question had planned to take it for that purpose, having been nego- 
tiating for a piece of property, the papers regarding which were to be signed 
that day. The owner of this property was a practical old fellow who 
did not believe in banks, looked suspiciously at notes and checks, and 
wanted his pay in the coin of the realm. I thought afterwards what a 
comical figure I must have made going along Main Street with a paste- 
board box in one hand and a tin one in the other.” 

“On my way to the bank I stopped in at the caterer’s and asked for 
the cake. When produced it would not fit the box the folks had provided. 
Then I offered the tin box, which was empty, of course, as I had not reached 
the bank, and lo! it fitted to a ‘T.’ This tickled me, as I had used it 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


7 


for everything but wedding cake! Then I dropped into the bank and 
got my bills. The question arose about where I should put them, and as 
my office was not far off, I decided it was safe enough to put them in the 
empty paste-board box, and let it go at that. 

“Well, I left the bank, and had almost reached my office in safety, when 
I got a smash on the head, and went down and out. The next thing I 
knew I was at the Police Station with my old physician bending over me. 

“‘Where’s my box?’ I demanded, desperately. 

“‘What,’ replied the doctor, ‘the tin one?’ 

“‘I mean the paste-board one,’ I declared. 

“‘Hal hal’ laughed the doctor. ‘You’re a good sport all right,’ and 
turning to the officers near by, he said, ‘Brown thinks more of his wife’s 
bonnet than he does of his own securities.’ 

“Then the chief explained. Said I had been knocked down by two 
footpads. He had suddenly come around the corner some distance back 
and had seen me with the two boxes in my hands. Had noticed I was 
followed and hurried up to assist, but too late. Had seen me knocked 
down and the fellows run off with my tin box. Said I had hung like grim 
death to the other one. Then he added kindly: 

“‘I hope you did not lose much, Mr. Brown. May I ask what the box 
contained ? ’ 

“‘Certainly,’ I replied. ‘It was full of — ’ 

“‘That’s too bad!’ he exclaimed, before I could finish. 

“ ‘Wedding cake,’ I added. The man gazed at me curiously. He had 
a sort of look of pity. Perhaps he thought the assault had affected my 
mind. 

“‘Bring me the bonnet-box, as you call it,’ I demanded. It was brought 
and you can imagine their surprise when I opened it up and out rolled 
the bills. So I told my story. 

“Later the tin box was found thrown away in a ditch and scattered about 
were bits of Eva’s cake. I felt all right an hour after gaining conscious- 
ness, and the wedding came off without a hitch, but of course we did not 
have the original cake we had ordered.” 


CHAPTER III. 


A Manipulation in Stocks. 

Two weeks previous to the incidents narrated in the preceding chapters, 
two men, Congressman Hart and Charles Slocum, President of the Mabel 
Consolidated Copper Company, met in conference in the private office of 
the company, the door of which was locked. Orders had been given if 
either were asked for to reply, “Not in.” 

“Our heaviest stockholder is President Stone of the First National 
Bank of Granby,” declared Hart, “Should he sell out his holdings 
through his local broker in order to realize immediate profits it would 
ruin our proposition.” 

The careful student of Finance knows that the great wealth of the 
country is produced by fertile Mother Earth. The great western farms 
produce food for the nation and the deep mines its metal values, — gold, 
silver, copper, lead, etc. 

Mining is as legitimate as banking and when conducted on right prin- 
ciples, safer and sounder, paying larger dividends — aye, but there’s the 
rub. 

The Mabel Consolidated Copper Company was an excellent proposi- 
tion. Ore had been produced which showed up well on the proof sheets, 
and with the installation of a good-sized smelter great returns 
were confidently expected by the stockholders. 

But the control had been bought out by a gang of sharpers 
who saw here a chance only of putting it on the stock market to 
boom it and then unload their own holdings, reaping a small for- 
tune ere it settled back to where it belonged. 

In the early part of its history. President Stone invested considerable 
money in this enterprise, and as he saw it grow had increased his hold- 
ings. 

This was due somewhat to the persuasions of Congressman Hart, who 
had used his political position as means to an end. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


9 


Harlan Nims had many times acted as the president’s private secre- 
tary, and when in Boston had given many buying orders to his broker. 

Few people realize that bank men are investors. It is true, however. 
That they do not advise their depositors to invest, however, is also true. 
Why should they? It means reducing their deposits and leaving less 
money available for the directors to invest in reliable stocks for the benefit 
of the stockholders of the bank. 

They prefer, if necessary, to pay two per cent interest on accounts 
whose daily balances average over $i,ooo than to have such accounts 
withdrawn. 

Booming a listed stock is not always an easy matter, as the stock market 
is made up of both bulls and bears — and the bears must be reckoned 
with. But things had gone along swimmingly. The bears were un- 
able to stop Mabel Consolidated in its upward flight. 

But Hart had just received some valuable data. One of the most 
noted bears, though known as an outside operator, Tom Harris, had got 
some inside information and planned to stop the meteoric career of this 
security. 

Hart had expected trouble from this quarter and long before, with 
marvellous foresight, had laid his plans. One of the clerks in the pro- 
moter’s office was but one of Hart’s puppets. 

He received. a salary from both Hart and Harris. Let the reader pic- 
ture to himself the man who can descend so low as to draw a salary 
from one who has hired him in good faith and yet who takes a bribe 
from another to play the part of spy. Can he be called a man? No, 
rather a sneak — a mongrel cur. 

What then may be said for him who would, for the sake of a few 
paltry thousands bend to such damnable methods for obtaining informa 
tion of value, using his high office to cloak a blackened character? Is 
he not worse — aye, a thousand times so ? 

Hart looked around cautiously and then, lowering his voice, said, ‘‘ Peters, 
my man, informed me yesterday that Tom Harris is planning an attack 
on the Mabel. He felt something in the air, and has been the last to 
leave each night for the past month. Last evening, pretending to be 
busy with his books, he waited till all the other clerks had gone and again 


lO 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


went into Tom’s private office. Tom had been there all day, contrary 
to his usual custom. Peters smelt a rat and waited. This time he was 
successful. In the waste paper basket were a number of bits of torn 
paper. It was simply the first draft of an announcement he is planning 
to spring on the public at the right psychological moment. It took Peters 
all the rest of the night at home to solve the puzzle by piecing the bits 
together, but he has succeeded,” and he passed to his companion the 
patched-up result. 

It was headed 

MABEL CONSOLIDATED INVESTORS 
WARNING. 

The two men pored over the sheet together. 

“It means this. Hart,” declared the president, “we’ve got to have money 
at once at any rate of interest or on any terms. Just as soon as the 
stockholder unloads we’ve got to snap up his holdings.” 

“But supposing we can’t do it,” replied Hart. 

“We must, there is no such word as can’t,” replied the other, “we must 
beg, borrow, or steal it.” 

“And another thing — ” 

“I’ll write up a good article as a news item of a big strike made on 
our property. My press agent can get it credited as legitimate news. I 
will also get Cannon, who runs a financial paper here that is Bible to 
lots of Boston investors, to run a long column about it. He’ll do it for 
wg,” and laughed as he winked an eye at his companion. 

A few hours later a tall man stopped in the hallway before the out- 
side door of an office which bore the words: 

A. LEVY & LOW, 

Note Brokers. 

He paused a moment, then opening the door entered the room, greeted 
its occupant, and soon made his mission known — the negotiation of a 
large loan to be made inside of a month. 

“It is too short a time,” replied the other, “not in six months could 
I raise it.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


II 


“But I must have it,’’ insisted the tall individual. 

“It will cost you considerable,” replied the Jew. 

“What’s your terms?” 

The Jew leaned over and whispered in his ear. 

“Never,” replied the tall man, then, as he calmed himself, “well, all 
right, I have got to have the stuff whether I beg, borrow or steal it,” and 
he left the office. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Murder. 

Monday morning Nims rose with the sun. He had planned to get 
to the bank earlier than usual, as it was near the end of the month, and 
that meant getting out bank statements. 

This was also his last day with that institution. For the last five years 
he had simply supplied during vacation time when the bank was short 
handed. 

That the officials considered his services invaluable was shown by the 
pressure brought to bear at frequent intervals to get him to consider a 
permanent position — even if they were obliged to create one for him. 

To all such proffers, however, he simply shook his head, and although 
he thanked them with feeling for their expressions of good will, he still 
believed that his lifework lay in another direction — that of a profession. 

His father, before his death, had laid aside each year a certain amount 
for this specific purpose. “I want the lad to have a college education,” 
he told his wife, “and then he may choose for himself his special pro- 
fession.” 

Nims had been true to the wishes of his father and by working part 
of the time during the spare moments, while in college, and filling a clerk- 
ship in the bank during the summer, had reduced v«ry little the sum his 
father had laid by for that purpose. 

As he approached the bank, he was surprised to see that the massive 
front door was not opened as was customary at that hour. 

“Perhaps the janitor has overslept,” he said to himself. 

Pulling out his bunch of keys he started to open the door but found 
that there was something wrong with the lock. 

Suspecting something amiss, he called the policeman at the corner, 
and together they tried the door, but it was impossible to force an entrance. 

They walked around the bank till they came to a window in the rear, 
which they found open a few inches. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


13 


“Wait a minute/’ said the policeman, and hastening across the street 
to the Engine House of the Fire Department, which was directly oppo- 
site, he soon returned, carrying a short ladder. By means of it they were 
able to enter and then what a sight met their eyes! 

Stretched out on the cold marble floor lay the janitor, dead. Not very 
far from him was a pool of blood which had been tracked about some- 
what. 

These bloody footprints led down the stairs towards the main entrance. 
They were peculiar in shape, suggesting that one of the burglars was bare- 
footed. 

The vault had been blown open, the robbers doubtless making a goodly 
haul. 

Harlan Nims telephoned for the president and cashiejr of the bank, 
and at the suggestion of the officer, for the Chief of Police. 

When they had arrived they held a hurried consultation, and as it was 
expected the bank would open inside of an hour, after a careful examination 
of the rooms, if was decided to have the body removed to the rooms of an 
undertaker nearby. 

The president then said, “Nims, would you mind washing up this 
blood, so that it will not alarm any of our lady depositors?” 

“Not in the least,” replied Nims, and he set about it the more willingly 
because of a purpose of his own. The president directed his attention to 
an inspection of the safe. Nims spent considerable time in washing 
up a few footprints and a little pool of blood — at least so thought the 
president. But had he watched the bookkeeper he would have learned 
the reason of his delay. 

Nims first went to his locker, called by his comrades-in-arms “The 
Laboratory,” got a small vial, several pieces of tissue paper and a big 
crayon. Fie collected some of the blood in the vial, smoothed the tissue 
paper down on the footprints with his crayon and made a tracing as an 
artist often does a drawing. With marvellous patience he made not one 
tracing, but several, each taken from a different part of the room. Then 
getting out the dead janitor’s pail and floor mop, he started in with, all 
due speed to wipe out the last damning evidence of murder. 

In one corner, as he moved about, busy at his gruesome task, he caught 


14 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 

sight *of a number of faint splashes on the tiling, while near them lay a 
small fragment of soiled paper tightly curled. Nims pounced upon this 
with all the zest of a prospector seeking for indications of gold, and a 
hurried investigation revealed it to be a piece of label from a bottle, the 
dry mucilage on one side causing it to curve. Smoothing it out care- 
fully, he found upon it four letters, h-i-n-e, the ending, he suspected, of 
the word “morphine.’’ The marks and the letters together told him the 
whole story. Rising, he tucked the paper in his pocket, exclaiming softly 
to himself, “more clues,” and resumed his work. 

After he had made the place look presentable he hurried away to look 
over the ground carefully in the vicinity of the window through which 
the robbers had effected their entrance. 

The bank stood by itself. One could walk completely around it. This 
was done as a precaution. The nearest buildings to it were the two large 
blocks on either side whose lower floors were made for stores. The window 
in question, however, opened into a good-sized back yard that consti- 
tuted the rear of several big business blocks forming the square of which 
the bank building was a part. 

“Lucky I got here early,” mused Nims to himself, “or I’d never had 
a chance to nose around here.” 

While the ladder was what the policemen had called a “short” one, 
it was considerably taller than was the window in height from the ground, 
and the bottom end had to be set out at least six feet from the building. 
This certainly was fortunate, for had it been otherwise any evidence of 
value would have been obliterated by the heavy sole and heel of the police- 
man. 

“Everything ought to be intact then,” thought Nims, as he bent 
down carefully to examine the ground. There he saw footprints plainly 
stamped in the soft soil. He noted two kinds, one that was made by a 
medium-sized shoe, long, narrow and slightly pointed; the other broad 
and flat, but no evidence to show either had entered the bank bare 
footed. The tracings, however, that had been so successful in the build- 
ing, were impracticable here, as the footprints were so deeply embedded 
in the soil. 

! But at length Nims hit upon a scheme. He returned to the street, 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


15 


entered a hardware store and bought some plaster of paris. Getting a 
tin pail, he mixed up a considerable quantity to a workable consistency, 
and gently filled up the best impression he could find. The plaster almost 
instantly hardened and in a few minutes he had the shape and outline he 
wanted. Re-entering the bank he added these bits of plaster to the other 
evidence he had collected, put them in his locker and was soon back on 
his high stool getting out balances. 

In the meantime, the president upon examination found that the inner 
vault had not been touched by the burglars. This caused considerable 
satisfaction to him. True, he honestly regretted the loss of his watch- 
man, and was justly indignant that such an outrage had been perpetrated 
within the sacred precincts of the First National Bank, but he had been 
so accustomed to looking at everything from a monetary point of view, 
that his iirst feeling was one of extreme satisfaction that the bank had not 
been looted. 

A reaction, however, set in when he was informed of the lost package 
that had come containing $30,000 by the late express from the First 
Consolidated Bank and had been left in the outer vault as it had been 
received too late to be put into the inner, that being closed by the 
cashier several hours previous. 

On that same afternoon the following news on the front page of The 
Granby Times, the only daily in the city, attracted great attention. It 
was headed as follows: 

“FIRST NATIONAL BANK 
OF GRANBY 
ROBBED. 

FRANK PALMER 
JANITOR 
MURDERED.” 

Then followed: “A great sensation was caused in this town this morn- 
ing by the discovery made at the bank by Mr. Harlan Nims and Charles 
Belmont of the police force. 


i6 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 

“Mr. Nims, it seems, started early for the bank, wishing to do a little 
extra work previous to the routine business of the day, and was surprised 
to find the outside door at the main entrance of the bank not open as was 
customary at that time in the morning. Unable to gain entrance he called 
to his assistance Charles Belmont, and together they succeeded in effect- 
ing an entrance by means of a rear window, which they found unlocked. 
Not only did they find that robbery had been committed, but also made 
the startling discovery that the watchman who had served so faithfully 
had been foully murdered. 

“After a hurried consultation of President Stone and Cashier Preston, 
the body of the unfortunate man was removed to the undertaking room 
of John Webb across the street. 

“A large pool of blood showed that the janitor had doubtless been 
stabbed, while the way his clothes were torn and the expression on his 
face, which even death could not efface, showed that he had made a brave 
and desperate struggle for his life. He had doubtless been aroused by 
hearing a noise in the rear of the bank, and while investigating the cause 
had been attacked by some ruffian and the gallant defender had fallen 
in the fray. 

“President Stone, authorized by the Board of Directors, has offered a 
reward of $5,000 in gold for the arrest and conviction of these looters. 
They have also telephoned for two of the best detectives in Boston to come 
on and see what can be done. It is deemed well to announce to the de- 
positors that while considerable money was stolen jrom the bank, the bank 
is solvent and able to do business, the burglar or burglars having been fright- 
ened off without gaining entrance to the inner safe where the real collateral 
of the bank was kept.'‘^ 

Considerable comment was caused that evening when it was announced 
in a later edition that upon examination no mark of violence was found 
upon the body of the janitor. 

This significant fact excited much discussion among its readers, some 
arguing that he had been poisoned. 

Later, Boston, detectives arrived, and carefully examined the evidence 
and the body at the undertaker’s. 


CHAPTER V. 


The Force of Personality. 

The excitement which followed the discovery of the morning delayed 
business and kept the bank force working overtime that fatal Monday. 

All sorts of reports had been circulated throughout the length and breadth 
of Granby, and up to the time of the appearance of the Granby Times at 
noon, with its special statement of assurance issued by the directors, a 
crowd of white-faced, wild-eyed depositors had poured into the bank, 
anxious to learn the facts of the case and in some cases to draw out their 
savings. 

President Stone was a man of marvellous foresight and unlimited re- 
sources. 

He reasoned early that morning that this unfortunate affair would 
be the means of spreading all sorts of ugly and distorted rumors about 
the country which would not be without its effect. He had never studied 
psychology, but he did what a student of that science would do. Pie 
knew that a large proportion of his depositors were hard-headed and un- 
compromising, and that if an idea once got into their heads it would be 
immovable. Ultra-conservative people, they believed only what they 
could see, taste or handle. 

These he knew would be the ones who would come with one definite 
purpose — that of creating a “run on the bank,” reasoning that if they 
were not “first in line” ready to draw out their balances, some one else 
would be, and that on their arrival they would find nothing remaining 
for themselves. 

Here is where the president showed his consummate genius. Imme- 
diately he dispatched one of the messengers under the protection of an 
officer to Medway Bank with a large New York check to be exchanged 
for bills. Then he ordered the paying tellers’ department to bring out 
of the safe all the bills they had and pile them up on the counter where 
they might remain in sight of all. This in addition to what the Medway 
Bank sent. 


i8 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


“Appearances count, he said to himself, as he viewed tier after tier 
of greenbacks, bank bills, silver and gold certificates. Then his eye fell 
upon the acting teller. The regular paying teller had left on his vacation 
Saturday and his assistant was now temporarily filling his place. 

A brilliant thought struck him. 

“Jim,^’ he said, lowering his voice, “I think the affair of the morning 
may precipitate a run on this institution There’s been a lot of gossip 
flying around, so I understand. Here are my orders. Pay all regular 
checks, but if any parties attempt to take their name off the book, pretend 
you don’t know them and ask them to get the president to O. K. 
their drafts.” 

The president had planned well. 

A crowd of excited men and women soon poured into the bank. It 
was almost amusing to watch them. Their first glance after entering 
was in the direction of the vault, as though they half-expected to see a 
great dark cavity where once had been the bank depository. Their next 
glance was directed towards the paying teller’s window, and they looked 
in astonishment. There stood the assistant, leisurely cashing the checks 
that were being presented, while piled about him were hills, hills, bills. 
Let us imagine the scene. 

Mrs. Brown, fair, fat, and forty, stepped to the paying teller’s window. 
She was the wife of a farmer living five miles away, who had always kept 
a small check account in the bank. Business the past year had been 
exceedingly good and they had now quite a tidy little sum on deposit 
there. On that morning she had heard alarming stories. Her husband, 
unable to go to the bank, hitched up the horse for her, signed a check in 
blank and instructed her, after investigation, to get the amount of his 
balance from the bookkeeper, fill in the check, and present it. 

Up hill and down, through the long sandy stretches or the muddy por- 
tions, the same rate of speed was maintained. The whip rested on poor 
Ned’s back the whole distance. She felt herself a sort of female Paul 
Revere, for as she rode by any farmhouse she shouted a note of warning 
which roused the inmates and filled their hearts with consternation. They 
followed suit. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


19 


Presently, arrived at her destination and red in the face from exertion 
and excitement, she presented the precious bit of paper. 

The teller glanced first at the check to note the signature and the amount, 
then at the lady. 

“I know the signature, but do I know you?” he asked, scanning her 
face carefully. 

“Well, you ought to,” she snapped ungraciously. 

“But,” he explained, “you see I am only supplying. The regular 
teller is away. Perhaps you met hint. It will be necessary for you to 
be identified — 

“What is the trouble?” and as the grave and dignified president cour- 
teously interrupted their conversation, he extended his hand. 

“Why, how do you do, Mrs. Brown! Quite a stranger — eh? You 
are early this morning — shopping, I presume?” 

Then to the paying teller — “Why, certainly, this check is all right. 
Pay it by all means.” 

Mrs. Brown, calmer in spite of herself, chatted awhile with the presi- 
dent, mentioning presently rather unconcernedly that she had heard a 
faint rumor of some slight robbery that had been committed at the First 
National Bank. The president laughed pleasantly. Was he conscious 
of the whole line of listening depositors? Apparently he was talking to 
her. 

“Yes, there was robbery committed, but it was a very slight one. The 
burglars seem to have been frightened away before they did any real 
damage. 

“Though they rifled the outer safe and obtained a few bills that had 
come in too late Saturday night to be put in the inner one, the money 
vault was intact. The only unfortunate part was the death of the janitor 
who had fought their attempts to gain entrance.” 

The crowd seemed to crumble away unaccountably. Many who had 
been waiting in line dropped out and crushing bits of paper in their pockets, 
went on to business. 

Had they heard the president, and had he wanted them to? 

We don’t know, but we do know that after this little talk Mrs. Brown 
failed to present her check again. And there were others. 


20 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


So it went on all that day. The president was here and there, striking 
some friend on the back, laughing at the rumors they told him they had 
heard and reassuring all, and when night came only two accounts had 
been taken off the books. A large number having withdrawn their balances 
had returned rather shamefaced an hour or two later to re-deposit same. 

It was simply the personality of one man that saved the day. He had 
overcome prejudice by reason and changed a feeling of panic to one of 
confidence. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Nims Disagrees with the Boston Detectives. 

As Harlan Nims was preparing to leave for home that evening he 
noticed President Stone coming his way across the room. As he passed 
the bookkeeper’s desk, he leaned over it, and said, “Mr. Nims, I would 
be pleased to have you come up to my house tomorrow evening, as the 
detectives are to make a report. You may be able to aid them.” 

Mr. Nims said he would be very glad indeed to be present. There 
were a number of reasons why he liked to call at “Sunnyside,” the presi- 
dent’s home. One was his interest in the daughter of the house. To 
him Helen Stone was the only girl in the wide world. They had been 
brought up together, gone to the same school, and although he had been 
away to college and had met many other girls, he knew it was her likeness 
alone that was engraved on his heart. 

President Stone had noticed Nim’s interest in her, but believed it was 
one resulting from a friendly acquaintanceship. He would have opposed 
anything that appeared to be more serious. 

As she would inherit all his property, his death would make her very 
wealthy. He did not consider Nims her equal from a financial point of 
view, for he looked at all things through gold-rimmed glasses. Such a 
girl would make a brilliant match for some wealthy man’s son, and he 
looked with more favor upon the attention bestowed by the young Con- 
gressman Hart, who had made a name for himself at the Capitol, and was 
considered an excellent catch in Washington by all the mammas with 
marriageable daughters. 

Of course, Helen was not consulted in this case. She had her own 
ideas, however. Recently, at one of the leading society events in Granby, 
she had showed rather a decided preference for the company of Harlan 
Nims. 

“Money is not everything,” she said quietly to one of her girl friends 
who was bewailing the fact that she was not rich like some girls. “There 
are many things that money cannot buy.’' 


22 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


Perhaps one reason she appeared to enjoy Nims’ company was due to 
the fact that she admired his frank and open manner. 

He had always been that way as far back as she could remember, and 
she felt down in her warm little heart that if Harlan Nims had any serious 
regard for her, her money could cut little figure in the case. 

In fact, his decided coolness a great many times made her reason that 
perhaps he feared that she might think he was more attracted towards her 
wealth than towards her own personality. 

Yes, Nims felt considerable pleasure on receiving this invitation to the 
house of the President, for besides listening to the theories advanced by 
the detectives he trusted that he would have the chance, as well, of seeing 
Helen. 

Helen had been an enthusiastic student along the lines that he was in- 
terested in, and had followed out some of his deductions, and that night 
surprised her father by asking if she might not be present. “Why don’t 
you engage Harlan Nims to do your work?” she said. “I believe that 
you would find him as good as any Boston detective.” Her father’s eyes 
twinkled and he playfully tweaked her little shell-like ear, as he answered, 
with a smile, “We want men of experience on that case and not amateurs, 
honey, but you are a bright girl, and if you want to be present I think it 
will be all right.” 

When Nims arrived he was cordially greeted, and on entering the parlor 
found it quite full of people. He was immediately introduced to Briggs 
and Walker, the celebrated detectives from Boston, and shook hands with 
Watts, Chief of Police of Granby, whom he knew well. 

Mr. Briggs, the older of the two detectives, acted as spokesman, and 
rubbed his hands together briskly and said with a very satisfied smile, 
“Gentlemen, this is one of the most interesting cases that I have seen. 
It bears all the earmarks of professional robbers, and the ground is being 
looked over very carefully. 

“While we regret that we did not come upon the scene before the body 
was removed, we believe that we can give you in outline the general plan 
of action of these criminals. We notice that entrance was made by a 
window in the rear, that a ladder had doubtless been put up, and one of 
the robbers, after forcing the window, had entered. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


23 


‘‘Startled by the sound of a window opening and closing the watchman 
hastened in that direction. He was, no doubt, surprised by the robber, 
and as we do not find any marks of violence on his body, doubtless chloro- 
formed and drugged. 

“That he made a desperate struggle is accounted for by the pools of 
blood which have been described to us and the bloody tracks. The latter 
were, no doubt, those of the watchman’s assailant, who then descended 
the stairs to let his pal or pals in and they proceeded to loot the bank.” 

It was certainly a very plausible and reasonable theory, but it did not 
suit Mr. Nims. As the detective proceeded his face became more and 
more perplexed, but no one noticed except Miss Stone, who observed 
sweetly, “Mr. Nims, I am afraid, does not agree with your theories.” 

“Perhaps not,” Mr. Briggs spoke patronizingly, “It is often hard 
for the ordinary layman to follow the reasonings of the professional de- 
tective.” 

“I presume so,” replied Helen, with the same sweet intonation, but 
her peculiar inflection was lost on every one but Nims. 

“To continue,” said the officer, “I have an announcement which I 
believe will more than please some of you. 

“Gentlemen,” he added impressively, “we have one of the criminals in 
the lockup at this present moment. 

“You will remember that on Saturday last we had a good moon up 
to about 12 o’clock, when it clouded over and we had quite a fall of 
rain. Well, it seems that Bangs, reporter of your town paper. The Times ^ 
planned a canoe trip up the river with a party of friends. 

“He had been pretty busy and somewhat delayed, and to save time, 
when he started for the boat-house, made use of several short cuts. One 
of these led close to the rear end of the bank. He noticed close to that 
building a little Jew peddler with his tray of collar buttons, studs, sus- 
penders, etc. 

“He thought little of it at that time, but after the robbery he at once 
reported the circumstances to me. 

“An alarm was sent out, and as the fellow is quite a familiar figure here, 
he was easily located in the next town, where he was pursuing his usual 
profession. We searched him and found two ten dollar bills upon his 


24 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


person. These were bills which were issued by the First National Bank 
of Granby, Conn., which he said some one had given to him. We believe, 
however, he is one of the culprits or at least an accessory. After we put 
him through ‘the third degree,’ we shall be able to clear up much of this 
mystery.” 

“Will you pardon me,” it was Nims who spoke, “if I ask a few questions 
for my own enlightenment?” 

“Certainly,” was the officer’s reply. 

“First — Is there any connection between the robbery of Mrs. Stokes 
and the Bank robbery?” queried Nims. 

“None whatever,” replied the officer. “One was the work of a sneak 
thief, the other of a professional.” 

“Second — If one of the men entered by the window, which I doubt, 
what was the need of his tracking blood all the way down stairs to let 
his other assistants in? Why couldn’t they come in the same way as he 
did? Why wouldn’t they be apt to, especially when he got in a fight 
with the watchman?” 

At this sally. Walker, the younger of the detectives, sat up and looked 
keenly at the young man. It was the first time he had noticed him. “It 
is impossible,” replied Briggs, “to answer that question for this reason — 
no one knows what was working in the man’s mind. It might have been 
a safeguard. Perhaps he thought some policeman might see the ladder 
and ascend and surprise them. Here then was another exit.” 

It certainly sounded plausible. 

“Third and last,” said Nims, “I think I know the Jew peddler you 
speak of by sight, and cannot see what he has to do with the robbery for 
these reasons: He is too well known in town; he was found in the next 
town plying his trade, instead of hundreds of miles away; the bank was 
not robbed till some time Sunday.” 

Both detectives started. 

“How do you know the bank was not robbed until Sunday — why not 
Saturday?” they both asked. 

Every eye was turned towards Nims. 

“On your own statement,” he said, turning to Briggs. 

“You are certainly marvellous in deduction, young man,” responded 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


25 


Briggs, rather sarcastically, “kindly inform me your process of reasoning 
this out.” 

Nims, however, kept his temper, He felt he had a friend at court 
and for her sake he would control himself. 

“You gave me valuable information, Mr. Briggs,” he responded cour- 
teously, “which I have overlooked. You said it was moonlight before 
twelve Saturday, but rainy afterward. If I remember rightly it stopped 
raining somewhere near two o’clock. 

“ Here’s my point. The bank was robbed after it had stopped raining — 
some time Sunday. 

“How do I know? 

“Because the foot-prints I found would have been washed away pre- 
vious to the storm, as the soil is rather clayey. If they had robbed the bank 
during the storm they would have been muddy and sloppy. The foot- 
prints were clean cut and perfect. Hence, they were made ajter the 
storm.” 

“Well,” replied Briggs, rising, as he pulled out his watch, “I have an 
appointment, and must leave. I will not to-night go into discussion of 
the subject pro and con regarding the guilt of the little Jew peddler, but 
I have pretty good evidence he is one of the guilty parties. However, 
young man, wait, time settles all things.” 

After considerable talking and planning, they all shook hands and 
bade one another a hearty good night. 

Nims was the last one to leave. He shook hands with President Stone, 
who patted him on the back and said, “Well, my young man, I like you 
first rate. You will find your clever theories are all right to incorporate 
in some novel, but of little value when applied to the practical every-day 
life,” and then giving the young man another cordial handshake, he left 
the room. 

But Helen looked at him with starry eyes, though her voice was quiet 
as she said, “Harlan, I believe that there is truth in your theories. I 
have known them before to work out right. Don’t get discouraged,’’ 
and giving him a smile of confidence she left him. 


CHAPTER VII. 


Sizing up One of the “Professionals.” 

The next morning Harlan Nims decided to go down to the county jail 
and have a look at Bangs’ culprit. He obtained a letter of introduction 
to the jailer from the Chief of Police who was friendly towards Nims, 
although skeptical as to his theories of deduction. 

He did better — he got that worthy to pin a little badge on his vest 
which read Special Police."'^ 

“I tell you, chief,” he said, “I have just left the bank and expect soon 
to take up some profession, perhaps that of a chemist. I want to make 
a try for that $5,000, even if I don’t get it. I will be glad to serve as 
‘Special’ for a few weeks and the little badge will help me out consider- 
able.” 

So he won out. 

It was very early in the morning when the jailer met him at the door, 
invited him in and asked his mission. Nims showed his credentials and 
explained his errand — an interview with the little Jew peddler. 

“I shall be really glad to have you talk with him, Mr. Nims,” replied 
the jailer. Then he added earnestly, “Do you know I feel he ought not 
to be shut up.” 

“Why?” queried Nims. 

“From the very first I have felt him guiltless,” was the response. “Of 
course the circumstances look suspicious, but is not this history repeating 
itself.? Many a man has been tried and hung on circumstantial evidence, 
only to have his name vindicated when it was too late, years after by the 
real culprit admitting his guilt on his death bed. 

“We jailers get used to studying men and can size them up pretty well 
and my opinions are not sudden ones, but are the outcome of a good many 
years of experience in the study of crime and criminals.” 

Nims became interested. He won the confidence of the man by stating 
that he too had been working on the case and believed the little peddler 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


27 


blameless in the matter and to that end had come down to interview him. 

“Before I see him I want to learn what he told you/’ he added. 

“Well,” replied the jailer, “I shall be glad to tell you all I know. The 
little fellow took his arrest badly to heart. He declared his innocence 
of any such crime again and again. ‘ I know nodding aboud eet,’ he said 
over and over again, as the tears ran down his cheeks. I told him I knew 
everything would come out all right, and he seemed quite relieved. 

“This is the story he told: 

“He admitted he had been in the rear of the bank building Saturday, 
but it was not the first time. 

“Bassett’s restaurant has a back entrance which opens into this little 
square. It is here they receive their supplies. He knew the cook, and 
when he called he used to give him something to eat.” 

“But what about these bills found on his person?” queried Nims. 

“He told me Saturday night he slept in a freight car, but early Sunday 
morning was suddenly awakened by a crash. They were coupling cars. 
Guess he thought the world was coming to an end, for he hollered out, and 
one of the freight hands found him and turned him out. He learned it 
was about 4 o’clock, and thinking his old friend, the cook, might be up, 
as he knew him to be an early riser, he started in the direction of the 
bank, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Just as he was about to walk 
down one of the side-alleys he ran plump into a tall man, who grabbed 
him with an oath, then seeing who it was, slipped the two bills in his pocket 
and pulling out a revolver said, ‘See that road (it was the old Boston Turn- 
pike) skidoo! If you stop inside an hour. I’ll put a bullet through you.’ 

“I guess the poor fellow thought he was to be followed, for he never 
stopped till he landed in Medway.” 

“Did he tell this to the detectives?” added Nims. 

“No! he tried to, but Briggs told him to wait till they got ready to 
hear him.” 

“Do you suppose he could identify the man who pulled the gun on him 
Sunday morning?” asked Nims excitedly. 

“He says he can,” replied the other, “and I believe he can. It was 
hard understanding all he said. He speaks in a broken English and tried 


28 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


to give me the name, but I could not make it out. He said if I’d get a horse 
and carriage he’d show me the way to his house.” 

“And give us the slip,” laughed Nims. 

“No! Mr. Nims,” was the positive reply. “I don’t think he’s that 
kind of a fellow. He said, ‘I no run — take all zee poleece you vant.’ ” 

“Mr. Baker,” replied Nims, for that was the jailer’s name, “I wish 
you would do me a favor. Just keep what you have told me to yourself, 
unless, of course, it is positively essential. I am here to vindicate this 
man. You would like to see him cleared of the charge also. We can 
work nicely together, but on the quiet. If you tell your tale you’ll get the 
laugh. I am spending my time to prove the truth of your assertions. Is 
it a go?” he held out his hand. 

“It is,” said the jailer, shaking the extended hand vigorously. And in 
that little room a compact of silence was verbally signed, sealed and de- 
livered. 

“Now for the little Jew peddler!” exclaimed Nims, delighted with the 
progress he had made so far. 

“All right, my hearty,” exclaimed the jailer, and he led the way. 

Nims followed. They entered a long corridor, passing cell after cell 
until they came to cell No. 95. Unlocking the door the jailer stepped 
in and stopped — a look of horror creeping over his face. There on the 
floor, stretched out cold and stiff, lay the little Jew peddler — dead. 

How had he met his death? There was no mark of violence on his 
body. Fearing an attempt at suicide he had been carefully searched, 
and everything he owned, but his wearing apparel, had been taken tem- 
porarily away from him. 

Nims spent some time in the cell looking it all over. He noticed the 
little grated window, the heavy granite walls. Then glancing up, his 
eye was attracted to the peculiar dome-shaped ceiling. 

Suddenly, as he looked, he gave an exclamation of surprise and ex- 
cusing himself for a moment, left the jailer. He returned a little bit later 
with a small butterfly net in his hands. 

“Going to catch your culprit in that?” queried one of the Boston de- 
tectives who had just come in, with a grin. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Nims, “perhaps so.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


29 


After a few minutes’ examination Briggs and Walker left and Nims asked 
permission to examine the cell carefully, which was readily granted. A 
few minutes later he passed out with his butterfly net in his hand and a 
look of astonishment and surprise on his face, but also one of extreme 
satisfaction. 

^^His life was forfeited,” declared Nims to himself, because he knew 
too much” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


The Little Dwarf Man. 

The Dramatic Club of Medway had invited its rival club of Granby to 
attend its initial performance of the season. As Helen Stone and Harlan 
Nims were both members of the local organization he had seized this oppor- 
tunity of requesting the pleasure of her company on this, the opening 
night of their friendly competitors in Medway, and she had graciously 
accepted. 

Never had Helen seemed so enchantingly beautiful. Her eyes spar- 
kled with animation, the cool autumn air brought a warm glow to her 
cheeks, and her conversation had never been so charming as on that 
night. They were cordially received by the members of the Medway 
Dramatic Club as recognized talented members of their own club. 

The play was to be produced in the Medway Opera House. When 
they arrived there they found the place crowded to the doors. Medway 
took great pride and interest in these amateur theatricals of its local club 
and the town turned out en masse whenever a performance took place. 

Seats had been previously reserved for them by Congressman Hart, 
who met them at the door and greeted them cordially, insisted that they 
share his box. Nims could hardly refuse, although he rather disliked 
the politician, believing him insincere. 

Just before the curtain rose, Nims went behind the scenes. While 
there something went wrong with the electrical attachments and as he 
was an expert electrician, he offered to remedy the difficulty. Removing 
his coat he went to work and in a few minutes had adjusted it satisfac- 
torily and perfectly, but he remained there after the curtain rose to be 
sure that everything worked as he expected. 

As he lingered he glanced out into the audience. It was a brilliant one. 
— every available seat filled, and the boxes as well. 

Franklin Graves, the broker, occupied the lower right hand box. He 
was a silent man, about whom little was known save that he was a generous 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


31 


giver to all charitable enterprises and a patron of all entertainments hav- 
ing that end in view. 

While he gave his occupation as broker, with an office in Boston, no 
one knew where it was and no one cared. Suffice it to say that he was 
considered by every one as an “all-round good fellow.’’ 

We are often more interested in the business of the mean and stingy 
man than in that of the quiet, unobtrusive, but liberal fellow. He was 
reported to be immensely wealthy and for that reason was considered a 
splendid catch. 

Then as Nims continued to look over the audience, his eye uneasily 
shifted to the other side, resting at length on the lower left hand one — 
Hart’s box. A little cloud came over his good-natured face as he noted 
the marked attention that Hart was paying to Helen. One of the members 
of the cast, hidden from sight in one of the forward wings seemed also 
to have noticed it, and he remarked to his companion, “The young Con- 
gressman seems quite interested, don’t he? Brilliant match — both got 
money — not much show for Nims, eh?” 

The reply caused a feeling of gratitude to rush through Nims’ veins 
He only wished he could have thanked his unknown friend. “Yes, that’s 
true, but Nims is an awfully nice fellow. He deserves her. What could 
we have done without him to-night?” 

As Nims sauntered back to Hart’s box, he said to himself, “I suppose 
I’m not in her class. It’s money that talks these days, but I do want her 
and want her bad.” 

The return drive home was as entrancing as had been the one coming. 
The moon was bright and the air was cold, altogether an ideal night to 
be out driving and especially to have for one’s companion Helen Stone, 
thought Nims — and rightly. 

Soon they left the village far behind and were alone with Nature in 
her wildest mood. The silence was broken only by the chirp of the crickets, 
the deep harsh croaking of the frogs in a nearby swamp, and of the hoot 
of an owl. The sounds mingled with that of the sharp click of the horse’s 
hoofs. It was a rather lonesome place, either side of the path being lined 
with forest trees, lowering and threatening. The darkness of the forest 
seemed to throw into contrast the road, ghostly white in the moonlight. 


32 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


Suddenly, as they approached the bridge over the little river, between 
Medway and Granby, the horse snorted and shied at some object. As 
he started to run, Nims’ attention was attracted to the occasion of his 
fright, a dwarf man, apparently, seated on the railing of the wooden bridge. 
Startled by the action of the horse the creature jumped to the top rail 
and ran along it like a tight-rope walker for some distance, and then sprang 
down and disappeared somewhere beneath the structure. 

Such an apparition would bring a creepy feeling over any one, but 
Nims, although surprised, did not show it. He knew that his companion 
had noticed the strange figure. He felt her trembling hand resting at 
his elbow, and it brought a thrill to him to think that for once she had 
seemed dependent upon him and in need of his protection. 

That night Helen Stone stood dreamily looking at herself in the glass. 
It was long after midnight, almost two hours having elapsed since Nims 
had bidden her good-bye at the door. In her hand she held a photo. 
It was that of Nims, taken when he had graduated from High School. 
One that he had exchanged with her for her own. 

■‘Oh, Harlan!” she said, “do you not know I love you better than any 
other man in the world?” 

Again she looked at the picture, at the firm, clear-cut, manly face up- 
turned to her. 

“Don’t you love me, too, dear?” she asked softly. “Is it only a little 
money that stands between you and me? Oh, I wish I was poor,” she 
said, with feeling. “I know you would come and put those strong manly 
arms around me and call me your own little girl, as you often did years 
ago when I was a wee tot and had fallen and hurt myself.” 

Then she raised the photo to her lips and kissed it, saying “Good-night, 
dear,” placed it again on the mantel and sought her bed, and the wind 
whistling around the house seemed to echo the words, “Good-night, dear.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


In the Laboratory. 

The laboratory was a marvel. Here Nims spent most of his spare 
time. It was a large room, one side being covered with shelves on which 
were test tubes, retorts, and all the paraphernalia necessary to supply 
the needs of a chemist. On the other side of the room was his library, 
containing several thousand volumes, many of them works on criminology, 
cabinets and card indexes where his descriptions of criminals and cele- 
brated crimes were filed away, and another part was devoted to Natural 
History, containing an elaborate and extensive collection of beetles, butter- 
flies, etc. A long table at one end was used as a sort of a work-table, 
while a small stand in the center and several chairs, with a very comforta- 
ble looking morris chair, completed the furniture in the room. 

Friday night found Nims in his laboratory. He was not alone, but 
had as his guest of honor, his old schoolmate, Helen Stone. 

They were neighbors. The Nims estate joined that of President 
Stone. 

Passers-by called attention to the striking contrast between the two 
residences. One was a very large mansion, surrounded by beautiful 
grounds laid out with an eye of refinement. The other, a small, unpre- 
tentious house, painted white, with green blinds and only about five or 
six acres in the entire lot. However, President Stone was not ashamed of 
his neighbor, for everything on that plot of ground was in good condition, 
with walks nicely gravelled and edges cut. There were no torn-down 
fences or tumbled-down stone walls. Nims spent considerable of his 
time in keeping everything in good repair, and this met with the hearty 
approval of the president. 

Since Nims had taken up his first real attempt at detective work, Helen 
had slipped over a good many evenings to call on Nims and his mother 
and to note his progress. To-night she had called particularly to get his 
answers to the questions he had propounded to the detectives at her 
father’s house. 


34 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


“I am very anxious,’’ she said, “to have you explain some of the de- 
ductions to me that you promulgated at the meeting last night. You 
know, Harlan,” she added, “I have more confidence in your capability 
than I have in those professional detectives.” 

Nims laughed softly and said, “Well, you see I don’t belong to the 
regulars. I am only an amateur. Still I believe that I may show them 
a few things yet.” 

“I am so curious, Harlan. Would you care to trust me with some of 
them, or are they such profound secrets that you cannot share them?” 
she answered, with a pretty beseeching air. 

“A request from the Queen of the Occasion is a command here,” said 
Nims, with a playful mock reverence. “As my guest you are the One-to- 
be-Obeyed. Pray use my knowledge to the limit of your interest.” 

“Please take the stand — or rather the morris chair, then,” rejoined 
Helen laughingly, and I will soon find out all I want to know.” 

Nims, who had been experimenting with some test tubes while he talked, 
dropped everything with a laugh, and humbly obeyed. 

“Your Honor,” said Helen, mischievously, bowing low to the big stuft'ed 
owl right above her queenly head, intending by the gesture to convey the 
idea that he was judge. (Wise girl ! She knew he could not take the exami- 
nation out of her hands or rule against her.) “Your Honor, I will now 
proceed to cross-examine the accused in his own behalf.” 

Then turning to the prisoner, who seemed a rather willing one, she 
proceeded : 

“What is your name?” 

“Harlan Nims.” 

“Where do you reside?” 

“Granby.” 

“Your occupation?” 

“A detective.” 

“How long have you followed this profession?” 

“About six days.” 

“Did you not infer at a recent meeting held at President Stone’s house 
by a question put to one of the Boston detectives that you had established 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


35 

the identity between Saturday’s sneak thief and that of one of Sunday’s 
bank robbers?” 

“I did.” 

“You will state to the Honorable Court and Jury all you know of this 
case,” finished Helen, dropping into a chair and leaning back ready for 
the recital. 

“In the first place, regarding my discovery that Saturday’s robber was 
also present Sunday, the deduction was most plain. While in the wash- 
room Saturday night, my foot struck something that went spinning across 
the floor with a sharp metallic ring. I picked it up and found it to be a 
small hypodermic syringe such as physicians use. On Monday I picked 
up a portion of the label from a bottle of morphine and also discovered 
spots on the floor which were doubtless of that drug. The janitor’s duty 
was to clear up the office, brush and sweep it at night, and there was every 
evidence that he had done so, therefore we may safely deduce that the man 
who dropped the vial in the bank Sunday was the one who visited it Satur- 
day morning. 

“In the second place, the discovery proves that the fellow was an opium 
fiend of the worst kind, who could go absolutely nowhere without carry- 
ing the deadly drug with him. 

“Thirdly, I have obtained also the height of one of the robbers. The 
janitor had been kalsomining the room and finished up that corner of 
it Saturday afternoon. One of the robbers stood near enough to the freshly 
whitened wall to allow the rim of his hat to brush lightly against it and 
leave a mark. You may think this could have been done previously. 

I doubt it — for this reason. It was a dirty black streak, and could only 

have been made by a derby hat which had been badly soaked with water. 
The first rain we have had for two weeks came Saturday night about 
12 o’clock. 

“Fourthly at least two men were involved. I noted two distinct foot- 
prints,” and Nims held up two plaster casts. “One is doubtless that 
of the Brain of the Enterprise — a gentleman professional, size seven, 

slightly pointed toe, up-to-date shape, etc. The other is a broad, flat 

shoe — the footwear of a laboring man or one spending much time on 
his feet. This was the assistant. 


36 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


“Fifthly, neither of these gained entrance to the bank by means of 
the back window. I believe this, because upon examination I found no 
print of a ladder in the soft ground. The ones the learned Boston detec- 
tives discovered were made by a country policeman and a humble bank 
clerk attempting to enter in broad daylight a bank whose front doors were 
closed. And this was the only means to use.” 

“Who, then, entered that window?” questioned Helen, “surely that 
was the means by which they got into the bank.” 

“Your Honor,” replied Nims, addressing the stuffed owl, “I refuse 
to answer this on advice of counsel.” 

“Anything more you care to state to the Court?” asked the fair cross- 
examiner. 

“I have a little exhibit here,” replied Nims, “which I shall speak of at 
more length when next the court meets, but at present I have not sufficient 
data to warrant my bringing it into evidence.” 

He held up what appeared to be a tiny wooden receptacle, a sort of 
miniature cigar box with a large opening at one end. 

“Your Honor and Gentlemen of the Jury, this I found just outside of 
the Granby jail. I fear I have abused your patience by abstruse deduc- 
tions, but in closing let me say the solution of the whole matter is hidden 
herein, and this case hereafter will be known as ‘The Mystery of the 
SandaDwood Box.’ ” 

Suddenly, in the midst of his peroration he heard an exclamation from 
Helen. Glancing in her direction, he found her eyes not on him, but 
staring wildly at the window. Fie followed their direction. 

A startled look came over his own face. Somebody was staring in the 
window, So7nebody who wore a mask and was doubtless trying to spy on 
young Nims^ doings. The head was visible only an instant and then 
disappeared. 

Nims started quickly for the door, snatching something from a shelf 
as he did so. Helen could see it gleam through his fingers. The next 
moment he was out of doors. No one was in sight. There were foot- 
prints, tangible incriminating evidence, in the flower bed, under the window. 
Nims got down and examined them. They were 0 } the same size as the 



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THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


37 

footprints of the party who had been in the hank and of the ones he had found 
under the hank rear window. 

Returning, he found Helen very nervous, but very brave. Stepping 
to the telephone he called up his friend Belmont and said, “Come up to 
the house at once. There’s trouble brewing here. Some one has been 
spying on me to-night. Miss Stone is here and it is essential that I escort 
her home, and I want to have some one on duty here.” 

Then turning, he said to Helen, “Wait just a minute,” and gathering 
all the evidence that he had collected he carried the armful out of the 
room to another part of the house, where he placed it in a little old-fashioned 
cupboard and locked it. Returning to Helen, he said, “Now I am ready 
to escort you home.” 

They had just reached the steps of the Stone mansion when Helen 
exclaimed, “Look through the trees! There’s a fire!” 

“Looks pretty near, too,” cried Nims, “guess I’ll hurry back,” and he 
did, to find his own laboratory ablaze! 

At the door he met Belmont, and together they burst in and fought 
the flames, which were extinguished before any great damage had been 
done. After it was all out, Belmont turned to his friend and said, “1 
guess you were right. Some one is trying to destroy your plant. We 
arrived just in time.” 

Later investigation showed that the place had been ransacked before 
the fire, the whole proceeding showing that some one had been frustrated 
in an attempt to destroy incriminating evidence. This they would have 
undoubtedly done had not Nims placed it in a place of safety, where it 
was found a moment later intact. 


CHAPTER X. 


The President Receives a Caller. 

President Stone was by training a religious man. His mother had 
been an orthodox of orthodoxes. 

He had been brought up to honor and respect the Sabbath as a day 
set apart for meditation and church attendance. 

He viewed with bifler antipathy any infringement upon the strict ob- 
servance of the day. 

The attempts of many who had not been reared in the same atmos- 
phere as he had to give a more liberal interpretation to the old Mosaic 
Law brought down upon their heads his anathemas. 

The turning of a Holy Day into a Holiday seemed to him of the 
Devil. 

But when a man is to be conquered do we assail his strongest con- 
victions first? No more than when a fortress is to be assaulted are our 
guns trained where the walls are thickest. We train our batteries at the 
weak points. 

The body of Achilles was invulnerable to the arrows of Paris till he 
drew at a venture and landed a shot in the heel — then Achilles fell. The 
president’s failing point was his avarice. His God, though he was un- 
conscious of it, was Gold, and he was its most devoted worshipper. 

His life had been one of long and hard struggle and that struggle had 
hardened his heart and brought the firm lines about his mouth. Friendly 
competition is the best thing in the world for the making of a man, on 
the contrary the hurtful kind is the most discouraging and damning. 

He had laughed at the word “Trust” which the so-called “Yellow 
Journals” had made such a hue and cry over, but as the time went on he 
was half inclined to believe they were not so far from the right after all. 
He wondered after all what the world was coming to. Was it not after 
all a case of the rich becoming richer and the poor poorer ? He noted 
the big consolidations in every line of business. He noted the power of 
these combinations. Even the big fellows formed combines, one with the 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


39 


other, lest one of them might destroy his fellow. And the man who 
fought such demands and refused to capitulate, desiring to run his own 
business independently, was “pushed to the wall.” 

The capitalists made their millions, not on the luxuries of life, but on 
the necessities — because there was more in it. 

The woman starving for bread with hungry babes at home who dared 
in her desperation to appropriate a loaf from some counter was promptly 
jailed, but the manipulator cornering the wheat market, thereby cutting 
every family’s loaf in half in the United States, was hailed as a “financial 
marvel.” 

When, during the winter, coal went up, up, up, and the poor ones of 
earth, unable to buy such a luxury, huddled in rooms and in desperation 
turned to oil as a protection from the wintery blast, he saw a merciless 
syndicate raise the price of that commodity in order to pay a magnificent 
dividend to their stockholders. He saw the craze of combine, too, even 
in his own realm of endeavor — the Banking Business. 

He noted the consolidation of banking institutions in the neighbor- 
ing city. A dozen banks merged into one and grey-haired presidents, 
cashiers, bookkeepers, tellers and clerks were “out of work” after years 
of faithful and responsible labor. 

He groaned in spirit and from the bottom of his heart like the prophet 
of old, he cried: 

“How long. Oh Lord? How long?” 

Is it any wonder then that he gripped tighter than ever the strings to 
his purse? 

Money, he realized, was his only friend. When that was gone — was 
not Hope gone, too? Oh, you who are so quick to censure, stop a 
moment to pity, even while you disapprove. His home, the position of 
his idolized child in society, his own influence and impress on- the world 
was determined by his bank account. With it he was the sought-for, 
the envied of his fellow-men; without it, he knew very well the change 
that must occur. 

On the Sunday afternoon following the robbery at the bank, Sunnyside 
received a caller who would assuredly not have been found there had it 


49 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 

not been th^ home of the rich and influential bank president. It was 
Congressman Hart. 

Helen, reading a book in a hammock swung between two pines in a 
little group of trees overlooking the lawn, made a pleasing picture in her 
dainty pink muslin dress, a large garden hat shading her sweet and win- 
some face. Its subtle effect was not lost on the Congressman, although 
his “Red Devil” entered with such a rush and roar that it startled her to her 
feet in alarm. She was the prettiest, and to use the expression of Amy 
Darling, her intimate friend and chum, “the sweetest girl in Granby.” 
Her figure was superb, tall and graceful, with perfect poise and balance, 
and if her figure was perfect, her face and features were adorable. “A 
favored child of the gods,” thought the politician, as he reflected that 
she was also an heiress and only child. 

“Lucky dog that gets her,” he muttered under his breath, as he 
raised his hat in passing. 

A moment later he stopped the “Red Devil” at the wide steps which led 
up to the broad veranda, leaped out and ascended to where, quietly smok- 
ing his after-dinner cigar, sat the bank president. 

“You will pardon my intrusion,” he said, courteously, “but I came on 
important business.” 

“Is it so important that it cannot be transacted on any other day than 
the Sabbath?” remarked the bank official, somewhat pointedly. 

Hart’s face flushed. “In this case, yes,” he replied, “I am simply doing 
you a personal favor in coming. It must be acted on immediately, as it 
concerns Mabel Consolidated Copper.” 

The other started. He motioned the Congressman to follow him and 
led the way into the library. Seating himself in a large easy chair near 
the center-table, he pointed out one near him for his companion. Then, 
picking up from the table an open box of choice cigars, he passed it to his 
visitor, saying as he did so, “Well, what is it?” 


CHAPTER XI. 


The Liberality of Congressman Hart. 

Hart pulled out a bit of yellow paper crumbled, — the usual telegraphic 
form — and passed it to the President. It was addressed to him and read 
as follows: 


“Close up all your friends at once. Remember, personal friends only. 

Struck big vein of copper. Price of stock will soar immediately.” 

The President fingered the telegram nervously. “Was it possible,” he 
thought, “that after years of waiting he was about to realize his ambitions? 
Oh! how hard he had struggled and worked to gain the little he had and 
now in a night perhaps he would recoup all his losses and on the morrow 
awake a rich man.” 

A feeling of exultation passed through his frail body. It brought color 
to his cheek and at that moment had his friends seen him would have ap- 
peared twenty years younger, but for the fact that the silvery locks that 
crowned his well-shaped head belied the youthful countenance and seemed 
to refute such a thought by this almost clear and audible reply: 

“’Tis fever only, the fever of old age. It’s the worst manhood- wrecking, 
soul-destroying momentary flash of heat since the world began — the 
Gold Fever.” 

Like all intermittent fevers it was gone, leaving him weak and shaking 
like an aspen leaf. He raised his hand and pressed his fingers to his 
closed eyes. Then bringing into, play his marvellous and indomitable 
will he brought to a standstill hjs^ runaway fancies. 

The next moment he was himself, the cautious, collected president of 
the First National Bank of Granby. 

“This is all very well, Mr. Hart,” he said, coolly, “for you to show 
me such evidence, but are you not aware that this method of telegraphing 
great strikes of ore is the usual method employed by the scheming pro- 
moter of the day?” 


42 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


“If Mr. Stone, who has called me his friend in the past and has appar- 
ently believed in my integrity, doubts my sincerity now, it might be well 
for us to drop further conversation,’’ replied Hart, somewhat injuredly. 
“I said before I am by nature a religious man,” with added solemnity, 
“but for the sake of one whom I believed held me in highest confidence 
I broke my general rule of conduct on the Sabbath in order to whisper 
in his ear what I believed would be to his advantage.” 

“You will pardon me,” said President Stone in his dignified way, “my 
remark carried no inference; but you will admit that — ’’ 

“That such announcements are not uncommon among brokers,” finished 
the Congressman. “I do, but,” he added, “perhaps one clause of this 
telegram may seem significant,” and he read it. 

“Remember, personal friends only” 

“Surely this does not command me to close up all? Surely this does 
not mean the hoi polloi?” 

“Let me say right here, Mr. Stone, though I have but few personal 
friends I can claim hundreds of political ones. Yes, lots of them, looking 
for favors, positions, influence, personal aggrandizement. But my per- 
sonal friends can be counted on the fingers of one hand. I’ll not weary 
you though”, he added, with what seemed an aggrieved sigh, “you know 
I am a pretty busy man.” 

“Forgive me. Hart,” exclaimed President Stone, extending his hand, 
“I have every confidence in you, and you know it. I doubted a moment 
ago whether you had really reflected on the merits of the case or not. I 
am now ready to talk business.” 

“And I can afford to be generous, too,” exclaimed Hart, “I am apt 
to think bank men cold and prejudiced — not broad and able to grasp 
big things. Let’s sit down and talk things over,” and drawing their 
chairs up to the table they soon covered sheets of paper with figures. 

Two hours later Hart jumped into his automobile and whisked away. 
In his pocket was a goodly check, attached to which was the signature 
of Charles Stone. 

The signer of the check watched from his piazza the big “Red Devil” 
disappear, then turning about started to enter the house, saying as he 
did so, “I’ve staked nearly everything. It’s win or lose. It’s abundant 
wealth or most abject poverty.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


An Interview With Boston Bank Officials. 

After careful thought Nims had come to the conclusion that the robbers 
had planned their campaign ahead, figuring to rob the bank the very 
time the package of bills reached their destination. He thought it reasona- 
ble then to conclude that they must have been informed by some one 
who knew of this shipment. 

A few days later Mr. Nims walked briskly into the banking rooms of 
the Second Consolidated Bank, produced his Special Badge, and asked 
to see the president of the institution, that was so-called because it 
was a consolidation of a number of Boston banks. 

Nims had a friend in the bank who was assistant paying teller and 
had planned to meet him and gain an introduction to the president, but 
on his arrival was informed that his friend was “out.” Hence, he intro- 
duced himself. 

He learned later that the term “out” in this institution meant more 
than simply “out to lunch” or “out on account of sickness.” It meant 
“thrown out.” 

The president was a stocky man about five feet and six inches in height, 
bulging forehead, dark eyes, hook nose and strong chin. A heavy black 
mustache covered a firm mouth and a pair of thin lips. 

“A brilliant business man, exceedingly ambitious, but absolutely heart- 
less,” was Nims’ mental observation. 

He was coolly smoking a cigar, although it was only about eleven o’clock, 
and Nims noted a sign inside the railing of the bank proper which read 
“No Smoking allowed in the bank during business hours.” 

“Doubtless considers himself above the petty rules which apply to 
employees,” observed Nims to himself. 

Then he approached and explained his mission. 

The Great Man simply jerked a thumb in the direction of some desks 
outside of his private office, saying. 


44 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


“Mr. Nims, it will be impossible for me to give you any of my time. 
I should suggest you see our cashier.” The cashier was of an entirely 
different type. He had the appearance of a school boy, though he had 
grown a beard to try to conceal his youth. Nims learned that after gradu- 
ating from college this young fellow had spent several months in each 
department, and then had been announced as cashier over the heads of 
men who had been in the service longer and were more capable of attend- 
ing to bank affairs. 

“ Dad had money,” was the reason given. He had a small King Charles 
spaniel tied to a leg of his chair that yelped and whined. As he planned 
to leave early that day, of course he considered it a very trivial matter to 
have a dog in the bank. Golf sticks in one corner of his little partition 
pen showed where most of his time was spent. He greeted Mr. Nims 
very courteously though, and after he had heard his story, said, “ Mr. Nims, 
I would suggest you see our paying teller, but before you do so, it 
will be necessary for me to be sure that you come with some authority,” 
which was proper. 

“Whatever they may say of him he’s certainly courteous,” decided 
Nims. 

Nims showed his badge, but this hardly suited the cashier. When he 
was informed that Nims had been bookkeeper of their correspondent 
bank, he appeared to be more interested and said that he would introduce 
him to the paying teller. That worthy received him very pleasantly, 
and he impressed him even more favorably than had the other two. 
He gave him all the information he could, telling him that if the package 
of $30,000 worth of bills had been taken on Friday night, it was taken 
by some one who had been informed, but said that he did not know of 
any outside parties who could hear of it. 

After asking several shrewd questions which were answered by the 
paying teller, Harlan left, unable to obtain a clue. When he again asked 
for Frank Foster who had been employed in the bank, he found that 
he had left the Tuesday before. 

“Guess I’ll have to see him,” decided Nims, as he passed out of the 
doors of the institution. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Slocum Booms Mabel Consolidated. 

As Nims sauntered out of the bank he noticed two men talking earnestly 
on the Water Street side of the Post Office. As he approached he could 
not help but notice that their conversation became less animated. He 
recognized in one his rival for the hand of Helen, Congressman Hart, 
who greeted him pleasantly, remarked on the weather, and asked in his 
easy indifferent way: 

“On business in Boston?” The question appeared a most natural 
one, but his apparent interest in hearing Nims’ reply augmented by the 
eager look of his companion made him cautious. 

“Oh!” he answered, in his oflihand style, “fixing up bank statements 
with our correspondent bank here, the Second Consolidated. Expect to 
be home soon.” 

Hart’s face did not change, but the relieved expression of his companion 
was more than apparent. 

“I wonder what’s up?” Nims said, as he walked away — down Water 
Street. “Hart seemed quite anxious to quiz, and who the dickens is 
his companion?” Just then the newsboy held out a paper for him to 
buy. Nims good naturedly reached for a copper and bought it. 

There on the front page was a likeness of the very man whom he had 
seen talking with Hart, and the Record informed him it was President 
Slocum of the Mabel Consolidated Copper Company. Then he looked 
for the headlines. They read as follows: 

“Chas. Slocum, 

President Mabel Consolidated, 

Reports a Remarkable Strike. 

Rich Vein of Copper Opened up« 

This no Doubt Will Boom 
The Price of Stock.” 


46 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


“Funny the president was so nervous. Guess he knows I do some 
buying and selling for President Stone all right.” 

Then he suddenly stopped. “I’ll shadow those fellows.” 

The Post Office Building is 1n a square of the city bounded by Devon- 
shire, Water, Congress and Milk Streets. A corridor inside follows the 
bounding streets. Nims turned into the Post Office and following the 
corridor soon came to a window where he could watch them unseen. 
They both were considerably disturbed and excited. “Some deal’s up,” 
muttered Nims, and then as they moved away, “now to work my follow-up 
system.” 

They crossed Washington Street and descended into “The Raths- 
keller,” Nims following. 

Part of the tables there are partitioned off, which makes it very pleasant 
and desirable for those wishing to converse with some privacy. 

By the profuse bows of the colored waiter, Nims soon located his party. 
The partition next was empty and Nims dropped into it and ordered a 
light lunch. His contemporaries had planned a profuse and elaborate 
banquet. He noted they had ordered liquors and he believed that this 
might soon unloose their tongues. “Perhaps,” thought he, “I may learn 
a few important facts. There’s something rotten in Denmark.” 

He carefully listened and was at last rewarded. For a time their voices 
were low and inaudible, but gradually as the liquor warmed them up and 
raised their spirits he caught words like this; 

“ Yes-boom-it-up-when-Public-gets-Crazy-unload. We can keep 
price up all right — Harris can’t scare us-Buy-in first shares — Nims- 
what-doing-in-Boston ? Don’t-let-Stone-get-wise-Stone-sells-out- 
game-lost. 

Nims got up quietly, leaving his half-finished lunch, slipped a half- 
dollar to the very large- voiced negro who had waited on him and was, 
Nims thought, about to ask him what was the trouble with the order. 
Such action from his big-voiced server would have attracted attention and 
precipitated matters. 

“I will go to President Stone’s broker,” said he, “and spend another 
day here if it is necessary.” 

As he struck Washington Street again he noticed a large crowd around 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 

the bulletin boards. Wondering what the excitement was he drew 
and there in big black letters read as follows: 

Tom Harris 

The Noted Outside Operator 
Attacks 

Mabel Consolidated Copper 
Promises 

Startling Disclosures 
Tomorrow. 

and on the financial page of the Boston paper he had secured appeared 
this significant advertisement: 


Mabel Consolidated Investors. 

Stop — Look — Listen. 

Read my half-page advertisement in tomorrow’s papers. It is a 
warning. 

**A prudent man foreseeth evil, but the simple pass on to destruction.” 

Thomas B. Harris. 


After supper Nims decided to call upon Frank Foster, whom he had 
been surprised to learn had been thrown out of the Second Consolidated 
Bank. 

On his arrival at the little unpretentious house in Roxbury, where he 
lived, Nims was met at the door by Foster and cordially greeted. Nims 
stated his errand, and also expressed a desire to learn why his old friend 
lost his position and what the trouble was. 


47 

nearer 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Foster on Present Bank Methods. 

“Banking business isn’t what it used to be,” declared Foster in dis- 
gust. “ A few years ago every one had a show. It was merit that counted, 
not money. 

“If one of the bank directors wished his son to learn bank methods 
he’d have to wait his chance for an opening, and he would have the same 
duties as any other young man when the opportunity presented itself. 

“Why in our old bank, God bless it,” he exclaimed, fervently, “we were 
expected with brotherly grace to help one another and as one after another 
dropped out, we moved up till we got to the top. 

“Both the cashier and president began as messenger boys, and by hard 
faithful work at last reached the top. Now money talks and it’s got a 
big mouth, a long tongue, a strong will. 

“It’s not the man with the best record that counts, but the man with 
the biggest bank book. It’s not the man that is the most honest, but 
the man that is the slickest. 

“Boston boasts of her blue blood, her aristocracy, her stalwart ancestry, 
and a few years ago any man was honored, even tho’ poor, who could 
claim honorable descent, and for himself an honorable reputation. 

“But bless you! the little mean, contemptible, shallow-pated nincom- 
poop can get into the best society, and get the best position in banking 
circles if he can pay the admission. A little man with a bank roll can do 
more than the big man with the little one. 

“This is true in New York as well, perhaps more so. A prominent 
broker there informed me that he could get his check certified for almost 
any amount on his own recognizance without hardly a dollar to his credit 
in the Bank. They took all risk on the man’s ‘say so’ that he would 
cover his loan by three o’clock. How’s that for modern banking methods ? 

“Now, for instance, take our bank, the Second Consolidated Bank. 
It is a great financial leviathan that swallows up a dozen banks at a mouth- 
ful and thirsts for more. 


THE IVIYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


49 


“The president is like La Fontaine’s Frog, who wanted to become as 
large as the ox. He is blown out like a football with his ambitious pipe 
dreams. 

“There is another Consolidatd Bank and his ambition is to far sur- 
pass it. He draws a salary four times what the ordinary bank president 
should, and he keeps the directors from making any comment by cutting 
down the salary of his clerks. 

“He is a smart man, I’ll admit, but he is all ambition, he has no heart. 

“Why we are turning off the men clerks, and putting girls in their 
places. They are satisfied with a small salary. They have no families 
to look after, nor do they contemplate as man does, marriage and a home 
of their own in the future. 

“We are hemmed in by childish rules and regulations. No one can 
go into another department to speak to another without permission from 
the hea.d of his department. I heard one of the boys talking to his neighbor 
the other day, and his satire was something immense. 

“‘There’s the fire alarm,’ exclaimed his friend, ‘do you suppose the 
fire engine comes up this street?’ 

“‘Not on your life,’ exclaimed the other. ‘They don’t go by the jail,^ 

“Just think of the men who have been thrown out by this Consolidation. 
There are scores of them, good capable fellows. Some spent the best part 
of their life in the business, too. The ones that had a pull stayed in, 
the others were informed that after such and such a date they were not 
needed. 

“That’s the way I got in when we took in the Importers and Traders’ 
Bank. I saw my finish, and was given a month’s notice. Reason — 
their assistant paying teller was capable, and came cheaper. So here 
I am. 

“Now let me see as regards the $30,000 in bills shipped the first to 
Granby. I don’t remember any suspicious character around that day.” 

“Any comments made?” suggested Nims. 

“Gad!” exclaimed Foster, “there was old man Levy, the note shaver, 
you know him. Regular skinflint. He had just cashed a check and 
was counting out the bills when Moses, the paying teller, turned around 
angrily to one of the messengers, that had just come in and said. 


50 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


‘“Have you sent that $30,000 worth of bills to Granby?’ 

“ ‘No,’ he replied. 

“‘Well, get busy,’ he said ‘it has got to go to-night.’ 

“Old man Levy looks up in surprise and asked the paying teller if that 
was not a lot of money to send by express.” 

“Do you think he would follow up such an opportunity?” queried Nims. 

. “No, I do not,” was the positive response, “he’s too much of a sneak, 
and would live in constant fear lest he might be implicated.” 

Then he suddenly rose to his feet, his eyes brilliant with some over- 
powering thought, his lips trembling with excitement, “He would not, 
I say, but,” he waved his hand, dramatically, “/te is unscrupulous and 
low-lived enough to whisper his observation to some other more daring and 
j earless ij it meant a penny in it for him” 


CHAPTER XV. 


i 

I 

I A Tom Harris Advertisement. 

As he neared the bulletin board the next morning Nims noted there an 
eager and excited throng. They blocked both the sidewalk and street. 
^ The majority of them were well dressed and had the appearance of busi- 
ness men. Some Nims recognized as local brokers. 

' Surely the bulletin painter for the time appeared to be the most popular 
in the Hub. With quick lightning strokes he was headlining in blazing 
red letters on the white paper news of importance. Nims drew near. 
The painter just then finished his second line and bent down to wet his 
brush. It read: 


“Tom Harris 
Begins” 

Then he resumed his work. A moment and again he stopped for more 
Vermillion. This time it read: 

I “Tom Harris 

i Begins 

I' His Attack on” 

I Then he paused, his brush poised in the air, critically surveying his 
work. It was more than weak human nature could stand. 

“Go on!” thundered the mob, unmindful of the remonstrances of 
passersby, the threats of policemen, the curses of draymen. 

“Give him the hook if he don’t!” yelled another. 

Everybody laughed, but the burst of merriment did not lessen the eager- 
ness of the crowd. They pushed and pulled, elbowed and jostled one 
another in their excitement. Out of the windows too, on the opposite 
I side of the street, peered eager faces. 

Comments, if any were made, were lost in the murmur of the crowd 
which sounded like ten thousand hives of bees swarming. 


52 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


The bulletin man bent to his task, and with quick strokes finished 
the headline and stepped down and out. There it stood in its entirety — 
the headline that had caused so much heat: 

“Tom Harris 
Begins 

His Attack on 
Mabel Consolidated.” 

The crowd dispersed in a dozen directions — excitement in every face, 
and comment on every tongue. 

It sounded as it must have sounded in the days of the Tower of Babel, 
when every man talked in a different tongue and wondered why his neigh- 
bor knew not the words he spoke. 

Nims was particularly attracted by the conversation of a splendid- 
looking elderly gentleman near him, whom he recognized as president of 
the old Fifth National Bank and whose words were listened to with con- 
siderable respect and not without some approbation. 

“I am a bank man,” said he simply, “and as such it behooves me to 
approach all matters of importance in the Realm of Finance with that 
amount of caution, coolness and candidness as befits my position of 
trust and responsibility. 

“But let me tell you, gentlemen,” he added deliberately, and raising 
his hand significantly, “altho’ you may not agree with me, and I grant 
every man the right of personal opinion, I believe that Tom Harris is 
sincere in his statements, and I believe that his bearish actions on certain 
recent securities is but to change inflated values to real ones and a means 
to an end to squeeze unnecessary moisture out of stocks that are badly 
watered” — this last with a twinkle in his keen eye. Then he added 
seriously, “If he continues as he has with the same sincerity and appar- 
ently honest purpose he will be hailed as the Financial Savior of his 
Country. 

“That’s all,” he added with a smile, noting their astonishment, “just 
remember what I have said, and wait” 

A few moments later the newsboys were shouting, “ Extree ’dition — 
all about Tom Harris and Mabel.” 

How the crowds swarmed about them — hands extended for a copy. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


53 


Nims heard an old lady as she passed by exclaim to her companion, 
“Pity sakes alive! how crazy Boston people be over scandals. Seems 
to me every one of ^em’s on the down grade. I wonder who Mabel is?’’ 
but he did not catch the other’s reply. 

He soon got a copy, and as he opened it his eyes fell on a large adver- 
tisement which occupied one quarter of a page. It read as follows: 


“MABEL CONSOLIDATED— INVESTORS 


WARNING. 

I have been watching for a number of months the efforts of certain 
unscrupulous parties to boom Mabel Consolidated Copper. I have at 
hand valuable and authentic information which causes me to sound a 
note of warning to holders of such stock. It is this: ‘Stand from 
under the structure before it falls.* 

There is a crash coming — and soon. Don’t be in the ruins! The 
Perpetrators of this Gigantic Swindle won’t be there. Why should 
you? 

Better beat it while your boots are good. Inflated values collapse 
when punctured by the Pin Point of Investigation. Listen to the facts 
in the case. 

Report 1. — The reported ‘big strike’ in the Mabel was simply a few 
feet of fair ore. 

Report 2. — They have cut through into the Gorilla mines, which is 
a good proposition, and are hoisting its ore out thro’ the Mabel in order 
to boost the price of the stock and bulge their own pockets. 

I will have more to say — later. I have given warning and stand 
ready to produce the proofs. 

Remember the old saw. It is hard for an empty bag to stand up- 
right and — Get Busy. 

T. B. HARRIS.’’ 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A Visit to a Notorious Note Broker. 

As Nims hastened away from the bulletin board he said to himself, 
“As the stock market does not open up till lo o’clock guess I’ll drop down 
and make a visit on Mr. Levy of A. Levy & Low, for Foster told me 
that he was the one who seemed quite surprised regarding that big ship- 
ment of bills to the First National Bank of Granby. Perhaps my meeting 
with him may throw some light on this mystery. I have all day to spend 
here in Boston, and so I might as well make good use of it.” 

Nims looked up the name of this party in the directory and found that 
he had a little office at 23 Doane Street. After climbing two rickety flights 
of stairs to the third story, he saw facing him these letters painted on ground- 
glass door: 

“A. Levy & Low, 

Note Brokers.” 

Opening the door he stepped in. It was a dingy little office that he 
entered and consisted of two rooms. On the door that entered into the 
further room was the word “Private.” 

Sitting at a desk, the back of which faced Nims, was some one. Then 
his quick eye made a discovery. Facing him, though partly concealed, 
and at the back of the man sitting at the desk was a mirror, and as Nims 
looked towards the desk he could barely see reflected in the glass the face 
of one whom he judged to be the proprietor. 

It was placed in such a way that the proprietor could see who came 
in without being seen by the one who entered. The arrangement was 
not unlike that of the glass in front of an organist in a church whose organ 
is in the rear who, by looking into it, can receive the signal from the 
precentor at the other end of the auditorium. 

Nims, by long training, had accustomed himself to take in a whole 
room at one glance and inadvertently he had discovered the scheme of 
the proprietor. The next moment Mr. Levy, for it was he, came forward, 
and asked what he could do for him. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


55 


“I saw that sign on the door, and wondered if I could get a note dis- 
counted here.” 

I “Veil,” exclaimed the Hebrew, rubbing his hands briskly. “Vill you 
f be so kind as to tell me more about de note dat you vould like to haf me 
f deescount. Let me zee it,” he added eagerly. 

Nims replied that he hadn’t the note with him, but that if Mr. Levy 
would be in about two o’clock he would bring it, although he would first 
like to know what rate he charged. 

“Vat rate?” exclaimed the proprietor. “Vat rate? It all depends, 
on vat the note ees. On some I get vive per cent and on odders I get 
more.” 

Just then a boy rushed into the office and up to Mr. Levy, handing him 
an envelope. Mr. Levy went to his desk, sat down, picked up the specta- 
cles he had taken off and began to read it. 

“Gott im Himmel!” he exclaimed, snatching off his spectacles, and 
tossing the letter on his desk as he rushed into the next room, the door 
of which was marked “Private.” He left it wide open, however, so that 
any movement on the part of Nims would have betrayed him. 

Nims kept his selfsame position near the desk, the back of which was 
turned his way. Suddenly he thought of the mirror and looking into it, 
easily deciphered the letter, which fortunately was not typewritten, but 
in large masculine hand, as of one in haste. The writing was, of course, 
backhanded, the glass reflecting the reverse of the original, but one of 
\ Nim’s pet diversions in early days had been to learn to read reverse script, 
and he easily mastered the message, which read as follows: 

“ Tom Harris attacks Mabel. Rush that loan down as soon as possible.” 

Mr. Levy returned with a telegraph blank, sat down, wrote an answer, 
and passed it to the messenger, saying as he did so, “Send this at vunce!” 
and the boy disappeared down the stairs. He then turned to Nims, who 
said, “I see you are busy and I will come in at two o’clock.” 

“Very veil,” he replied, resumed his pen, and Nims started down the 
stairs. 

When he struck the second landing he increased his speed and soon 
overtook the boy, but keeping a short distance from him. He noted the 


56 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


office that the youngster ran into, but waited until he saw a portly gen- 
tleman entering, when he followed unobserved. 

The boy had taken his place at the end of the line, and Nims went up 
to one of the tables, pretended to write a telegram, and in a few moments’ 
time took his place directly behind the messenger, who held his message 
carelessly in his hand, open. For once, “for the good of the public,” 
said Nims to himself, he laid aside good manners, looked over the lad’s 
shoulder and read the message. It ran as follows: 


** Where is money you promised me? Must have it at once. 


The address was the one he expected to see. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


The Spite of The “Red Devil.’’ 

The Hon. William Hart, received a telegram early the same morning 
in cipher which, when translated, read as follows: 

“Harris’ ad appears in noon’s paper. Boston edition will doubtless 
reach Qranby this afternoon. Get Stone out of town. 

Slocum.” 

Hart called upon President Stone at 12 o’clock at the bank and in- 
formed him he was very anxious to take him to Medway that he might 
appraise a piece of property for him. 

Hart added that the property would soon be put under the auctioneer’s 
hammer, and he wished to bid on it. 

“But I have not been to lunch yet,” demurred the president. 
“Neither have I,” returned Hart, “but you shall lunch with me at 
Medway.” 

“How long will it take?” demanded the bank man. 

“A very short time. I have my automobile outside and it doesn’t take 
long to cover the ground.” Then he added, “The ride will do you good. 

I You bank people keep too much confined indoors,” and who could resist 
such a good-natured insistence? 

They soon reached the town, and Hart having previously telephoned 
the best hotel there, the two men sat down to an elaborate lunch, then 
left to examine the property in question. This took some time, as Presi- 
dent Stone in all his labors was very conscientious and painstaking. 

Suddenly he looked at his watch and exclaimed, “I had no idea it was 
so late; Mr. Hart. I must return at once to Granby. I have important 
business this afternoon and evening.” 

“Do not trouble yourself at all regarding time'' replied the other, in 
his easy-going way, “so long as we have this ‘Red Devil’ to return in. 
This is the fastest motor car in the country. I had it made purposely 
for me in France, and it has never taken anybody’s dust. We can return 
by the Fells and make it inside of twenty minutes.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


58 

A few minutes later, after carefully examining the machinery and spend- 
ing some time looking over one of the back tires, he helped the president 
in and jumped in himself. The next moment they were off with the 
speed of the wind. 

“I guess we will go round the long way,” muttered Hart, aloud, but as 
though talking to himself. 

President Stone interrupted him, “Do you think it possible that we 
will get there in good time?” 

“Not the least. In fact I prefer the roundabout way because we will 
not be bothered by policemen who might hold us up for speeding.” 

He headed his car in the direction of Melrose. Faster and faster they 
flew. When he had reached the extreme end of the Fells near the South 
Dam, which was about five miles from their destination, he turned his 
car about and headed it in the direction of Granby. They had been 
going along nicely, when suddenly he stopped the machine and leaped 
out, saying as he did so: 

“You will excuse me a moment, I am going ahead a bit to look for a 
sign-board. There are two roads that branch here, and I am not fully 
acquainted with them,” and he disappeared up the road, rounded the 
curve, and was soon out of sight. 

It seemed strange to the president that Hart one moment should speak 
of his familiarity with the road, and later seem to be in doubt regarding 
his whereabouts. 

As he left Stone noticed that one of his partner’s pockets bulged as 
though it contained some sort of a package, and when he returned it was 
flat. 

Apologizing to his companion for the delay. Hart again jumped into 
the car and started off at full speed. They had rounded the curve and 
were just rolling up one of the branch roads, when the president heard a 
hiss like escaping steam. 

“Punctured,” exclaimed Hart, in apparent surprise, as with a gesture 
of vexation he leaped from the car. One of the back tires was flat. 
“We are in for it now,” he added, in a tone of disgust. 

An hour later the Congressman’s “Red Devil” limped into Granby and 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


59 


the occupants heard the newsboys with their six o’clock editions excitedly 
crying out: 

“Extree ’dition of Times. All ’bout Harris attacking Mabel Consoli- 
dated.” 

There was a very firm, decided look on President Stone’s face as he 
courteously bade Hart good night. The prize-ring follower would have 
called it “Stone’s fighting face.” It was that of a man who had laid a plan 
of action and was eager to go about it. 

“ Give me long distance,” his daughter heard him say to the local opera- 
tor. She was entering to announce that dinner was ready. Then later, 
“Yes, I want Boston, 435 — ” and she saw him start as he said, “What 
is that you say?” His voice was quick and sharp. 

This was the reply: 

“ Can’t get Boston. Trouble with wires. Repairers are seeking break.” 

He dropped back in the chair, his face white, his lips trembling, the 
veins standing out like whipcords on his forehead. 

He had tried to get his broker and jailed. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


A Battle of Giants. 

Ten o’clock found Nims in the office of Stone’s broker, watching the 
tape rolling off itself in huge billows. Frenzy was in the air and Mabel 
Consolidated was high pressure point. The announcement of President 
Slocum the morning before, followed by the small but significant adver- 
tisement of Tom Harris, had stirred up all investors. Following this came 
the huge Harris ad. of the morning, which had been read by all the busi- 
ness men en route to Boston. 

On steam cars, on trolley lines, ferries and elevated could be seen ex- 
cited people conning carefully the financial page of their favorite news- 
paper. Here and there were excited groups discussing the question pro 
and con. The most radical declared in favor of Tom Harris, the more 
conservative called him a fakir, a mountebank, an unscrupulous stock 
manipulator. There were a few, however, men who were held in high 
esteem, who declared that his course was highly commendable. 

“We have had too much of this booming of stock,” they argued. “It 
does not help out a security in the least. It turns the stockholders into a 
lot of speculators. They buy one day, and sell the next. They simply 
gamble on fluctuations. The pendulum has swung one way — let it 
swing the other. Matters will soon right themselves.” 

Now — all eyes were turned towards the stock market. Investors 
crowded their brokers’ offices, outsiders watched the bulletin boards. 
The question paramount was “Will Harris’ statements affect the market?” 

The syndicate laughed They had money and expected more. 

Again they had planned well. Most of the stock had been sold in small 
blocks to out-of-town investors, previous to listing it on the stock market. 
It would take time for them to hear of the raid on this security and send 
in orders to sell. Any stock offered was to be immediately snapped up 
and when, by such constant and steady buying, this security reached 
high water mark, the syndicate would unload only to buy in low and 
again boom this stock. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


6i 


Fortunately for Nims, before leaving for Boston he had called upon 
President Stone to speak to him regarding his intended trip. Stone, after 
talking the matter over, had suddenly spoken of Mabel Consolidated. 
Nims had many times acted as his agent and given orders to buy and 
sell various stocks from time to time to Stone’s broker. His word carried 
with the broker practically the same authority as a written power of attorney 
might with a bank man. 

‘T want you to watch this security,” he had said, then he added, ‘T 
am loaded pretty well up to the muzzle with it.” 

Nims had innocently asked, without considering the question rather 
impertinent, “How many shares have you got, Mr. Stone?” 

The president looked him full in the eye, then, attracted by his frank 
and honest face, lowered his voice and replied: 

“Three thousand.” 

Nims whistled. “That is some,” he ejaculated, “but you may depend 
upon me to do my best to keep my eyes open. If anything happens. 
I’ll get you by long distance.” 

When the stock market opened the stock stood listed at no. For 
two hours it wavered only a few points, although quite a number of shares 
passed hands. The syndicate simply bought them in. Why they did 
this no one knew but Hart. 

At 12 o’clock it began to decline rapidly. Nims tried long distance 
to get Stone, but found him out. (He was in Medway.) 

Again he stepped to the ’phone and tried to get Medway. Back came 
the word from the long distance operator, “Wires down.” 

Nims sought the ticker, calm, cool, collected, to outward appearance, 
but quivering inside with the audacity of a daring thought. He was 
about to take a fearful leap in the dark. It meant, if he won, success — 
if he lost, failure. The rapid drop of this security caused the market 
to be flooded with selling orders, but they were only in small blocks. 

Suddenly the market rallied, — the security rose higher and higher. 
Orders piled in to brokers to buy, buy, buy. 

Investors who had sold their holdings instructed brokers again to buy 
for them. Never in the history of the Street had financial men noted 
such a phenomena. It reached no, passed it, and soared on to 140, 


62 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


Nims dropped the tape, stepped to the desk and wrote on a slip as follows: 
“Sell 3,000 shares Mabel Consolidated. 

Charles Stone. 

H. Nims, Attorney. 

and passed it to the broker. 

The broker gasped, “Do you mean it, Mr. Nims?” 

“I do,” replied Nims, his voice quiet, but his brain burning with ex- 
citement. 

“You are mad — mad,” exclaimed the broker. “Mabel Consolidated 
will reach 200. Are these your orders?” 

“They are my orders,” replied Nims truthfully. 

“When can you deliver?” queried the broker. 

“To-morrow noon,” he replied. “I want certified check in exchange 
for stock.” 

“Very well,” replied the broker, and Nims snatched his hat and left 
for home. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


By the Hand of Nims. 

After President Stone had received the message from the local operator 
to the effect that all communication with Boston had been cut off, he ap- 
peared like a man in a dream. 

He allowed his daughter to lead him to supper and wait on him as 
she would a child. 

She could not understand what the trouble was and to all her ques- 
tions he simply shook his head, saying it had been a very busy day and 
that he was not feeling very well. 

He stumbled through the meal, spilled his coffee, dropped his fork 
a number of times, and otherwise appeared unnerved and agitated. When 
he rose from the table he said: 

“Helen, I want you to ’phone down to the Times office and have their 
last edition sent up to me as soon as it is off the press. Have it sent 
by messenger boy at my expense,” and he went out doors for a walk in 
the cool air. 

When he returned at almost 7 o’clock he noted a light in the library 
and glancing in saw something that startled him. 

Helen had a copy of the Times — doubtless the last edition — and 
was carefully removing a single sheet. 

It was some special insert. On the other side of the room a fire was 
blazing cheerfully in the large open fireplace, giving a cheery warmth 
to the whole house. 

In a moment this shrewd character reader had read the mind of the 
girl. 

There was something on the page she did not want him to see, and she 
was removing it to hum in the grate. 

Quick as a flash, and as noiseless as an Indian he crept into the house 
and grasping the library door, rushed in just as Helen tossed the page 
into the fire. She turned around, saw him, read his purpose. Extending 
her arms she cried: 


64 the mystery OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 

“Father, don’t read it! Please don’t. It will only make you feel 
badly.” 

He realized in that moment her love for him as he had never before. 

“Daughter,” he said, and his voice was quiet and firm, though his face 
was very white. “I am prepared for the worst — and must.” 

He pulled the bit of paper out as the flames began to blaze about the 
edges, and going to his favorite armchair close by his desk, slowly opened 
it. There in startling headlines he saw: 

“Tom Harris 
Wins 

In His Fight Against 
Mabel Consolidated Copper 
Which Drops From 140 
To 
80. 

Thousands Ruined.” 

He carefully read the whole story. The history of the fight. The decline 
of stock, the rally, that soared it up to 140, then an hour before the market 
closed, the fearful panic. 

“It was precipitated,” said the writer, in summing up the matter, “by 
some mysterious party suddenly unloading a large block of stock on the 
market. We have every reason to believe that the syndicate themselves 
bought in many shares when the price quoted was at the lowest, figur- 
ing to profit on sudden rise. 

When, however, this block was thrown on the market, they became 
frightened and dumped their own holdings in. This created a panic, 
the like of which had not been seen for years.” 

“Daughter,” said President Stone, talking as in a dream. “I am 
ruined. Under great pressure I was induced to put all the money I could 
rake together into this deal — and — it is gone. I did this more for your 
sake than for mine. I had to work long and hard for my money and 
wanted you to have plenty. I did not know how long I might live and 
could not bear to think of you battling alone with the world, so — ” his 
voice broke, “I ventured and have lost. However, all is not lost, for each 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


6 $ 


year I have laid away something for you. I am glad of it now, for although 
I have still my salary as president to live on, we are poor, and this is the 
disappointment of my life.” and the strong man bowed his head in sorrow. 

“Never mind, papa,” cried Helen, seating herself on his lap as she 
had when a little tot, and putting her arms about his neck. “We will 
be happy just the same.” 

Just then the electric bell rang loudly and insistently. The servant 
answered the summons and the next moment Nims rushed in, hatless, 
his coat torn, a black bruise on his forehead. The man held out a tray 
for his card, but Nims pushed him aside and bolted into the room. 

“Gad!” he exclaimed. Then he stopped and took in the little scene 
and began to laugh merrily. The whole room seemed to brighten under 
the influence of his mirth, then suddenly his face grew more serious. 

“Mr. Stone,” he said, “I did an awful thing to-day, but I did it because 
of affection for my old employer. I learned in a restaurant of a dirty deal 
in stocks and unable to get you on account of a break in the wires, sold 
out your holdings in Mabel Consolidated.” Then he told the whole 
story. The president rose and grasped Nims’ hand with tears. “It 
was risky, but I more than appreciate your jeopardizing your future for 
my sake.” 

Then he looked the young fellow over. 

“What has happened to you, Nims?” 

Nims grinned. “Guess those fellows wanted to stop me making that 
delivery. I was followed, and two toughs tried to knock me down, but,” 
with another grin, “you remember I used to be champion boxer in col- 
lege, and I guess they are still sprawled out there behind in the road.” 

“I see — it’s the syndicate,” exclaimed President Stone. “They 
bought the stock and didn’t want it delivered to the broker, so they could 
claim the check by default.” 

“I guess the check is in his safe all right. Give me your certificate 
and I’ll take the next train back and be the first man on hand in the morn- 
ing.” 

“My footman shall go with you,” declared the president, and he in- 
sisted so strenuously that Nims had to accept. Helen followed him to 


66 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


the door and laying her hand on his arm, turned a pair of really anxious 
eyes towards him. 

“Take good care of yourself, Harlan, won’t you,” then she added, “for 
my — my sake.” 

“Helen,” said her father, as she returned to the library, “if God ever 
made a man, Nims is one. He has been willing to risk much for me, 
and shall not lose by the deal. One-half of my profit is his. He has a 
small check account in the bank and I shall add a deposit to it tomorrow. 
At the end of the month when he gets his pass-book, he will wonder what’s 
struck his balance,” and he chuckled with glee. 


CHAPTER XX. 


Briggs and Walker Again in the Lime-light. 

Nims was completely worn out by his labors of the last three days, 
and on his return at noon from Boston went immediately to bed to make 
up the sleep he had lost. He never opened his eyes until 9 o’clock the 
next morning. Hastily dressing, he descended the stairs and found his 
mother waiting breakfast for him. 

“ Good morning, Harlan,” was her greeting, “you have been away so much 
I thought I would wait and eat with you this morning,” 

“It is very kind of you, mother dear,” replied her son, kissing her affec- 
tionately, “I’ll try to be a good boy and be prompt hereafter.” 

Nims had one bad habit. Before sitting down to breakfast he always 
went to the front door and got a morning paper, which he glanced at as 
he drank his coffee. During the days following the bank robbery this 
habit had grown on him. The T hues lay by his place this morning, and 
as he sipped the fragrant Mocha he glanced over the headlines on the 
front page. Suddenly he leaned back and laughed. 

“Mother,” he cried, “listen to this!” 

The item was headed: 

“Detectives Briggs and Walker 
Obtain Valuable Information 
from 

Ticket Agent Brown of Granby Junction.” 

It then went on to announce that the ticket agent at Granby Junction 
had sold tickets to two men going to Boston on the very Sunday night 
that the bank had been robbed, and they had asked him to flag the mid- 
night express for them. He had noticed that they acted peculiarly and 
watched them suspiciously to see if they boarded the train. This he 
declared they did. 

Detectives Briggs and Walker, the paper reported, were now on the 
track of these people and when interviewed by their reporter, had declared 


68 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


that there was no doubt that these rascals were now in Boston. Confident 
of rounding them up very shortly, they had telegraphed the Boston police 
to be on the lookout for them and requested them to send out “a general 
alarm.” 

“Do you suppose, mother dear, that those fellows would be foolish 
enough to buy tickets to Boston and board the midnight train? Not 
for a minute. I think I can see through their little game.” 

That was all the comment he made, but that afternoon he rode on his 
bicycle over to the Junction. 

Thanking the agent for the information he had obtained, he sat down 
on one of the wooden benches outside the station and was soon lost in 
thought. 

A few minutes later he arose quickly as though moved by some thought, 
and walked down the track a little way, examining the ground very care- 
fully on either side. 

The Fells bordered it on either side with deep woods. He proceeded 
with marvellous patience to scrutinize every inch of ground. Suddenly 
an exclamation of satisfaction came from him. He reached down and 
picked up a small bit of paper, then another, and another, until he had 
collected quite a handful. Seating himself on the embankment, he put 
the little pieces carefully together, and the result, when completed, bore 
on its face the words: 

“Good For One Passage 
Between 

Granby and Boston” 

Turning each bit over as it lay, he made out the date of Sunday stamped 
in full on the reverse. 

“So far, so good,” said he, “I would not ask for better luck,” and still 
continued his minute scrutiny, descending at length the bank, which shaded 
off into a kind of swamp. He was rewarded by finding a number of foot- 
prints in the soft ground. These he examined very carefully, and made a 
tracing of them on a bit of paper he had in his pocket. He then pushed 
through the underbrush till he got near the swamp. Skirting this he 
asked himself, “I wonder how near the road is?” and pushed on till he 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 69 

reached it. There he found marks of horses’ hoofs and the wheel-tracks 
of some wagon. 

“So this was their scheme to throw the detectives off scent! I only 
regret that it is impossible to follow them on account of the hardness 
of the road, and on account of the time which has elapsed since he got 
the clue. These fellows did not go to Boston, but left the train here and 
are in some nearby town.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


The Little Dwarf Man Re-appears. 

“The Fells” is the name of a beautiful tract of land stretching between 
Granby and Medway and the other surrounding towns. For the most 
part it consists of hills, which are covered with a luxuriant growth of oak, 
maple, chestnut, and pine. Between these hills are situated several beau- 
tiful reservoirs, furnishing to the inhabitants of the surrounding towns 
an ample supply of pure water. The Park Commissioners interested 
in this nature spot had reserved it for a park, built several beautiful roads 
through it, placed rustic reats at different distances, and had otherwise 
tried to improve it and make it more easily accessible to nature-lovers. 

During the Fall hunters, under certain restriction, were allowed to shoot, 
providing they secured a permit. 

One afternoon one might have seen a young hunter in shooting jacket, 
with a hunting dog a this heels, trying to start up some game. It was 
Harlan Nims. Suddenly his dog took to his heels and, barking furiously, 
disappeared from view. Like all game dogs, his barks became more 
frequent, and excited as he gained on his quarry. He supposed it was a 
rabbit. 

Nims slipped two cartridges into his double-barrel shotgun, and started 
on the double-quick. He soon discovered the dog at the foot of a tree 
and decided it must be a squirrel, rabbits as a general rule not being tree 
climbers. 

The creature seemed to be chattering away and scolding. “What 
kind of a thing has the dog treed ?” he asked himself, as he recognized by 
the peculiar noise the animal made that it was not a squirrel. On reach- 
ing the spot and looking up, he noticed half-way up the tree in a crotch 
of the trunk, with all but his face hidden by the foliage, something like 
the little dwarf he had seen the night of the Dramatic Club’s play at 
Medway. 

“I think I have solved the mystery of a certain moonlight night,” thought 
Nims, recalling his ride with Helen. He realized that what he had at 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


71 


first taken for a little dwarf was a chimpanzee, and ordering the dog home, 
he pulled out a cracker, held it up where the little creature could see it 
and said decidedly, “Joe, come down and get some supper.’^ 

The little fellow was pretty badly frightened, and peered out to see where 
the dog was. After some coaxing and doubtless because he was pretty 
hungry, he descended and ate the cracker with real animal greed. Nims 
knew that the satisfaction of hunger is a great factor in the management 
of animals, so he gave him only a bit at a time, in order that they might 
become better acquainted. When the crackers were finished they were then 
on the best of terms, and “Joe” even allowed a strap to be passed through 
the collar he wore. Later Nims took up his gun, coaxed the chimpanzee 
to his shoulder and carried him away with him. He came out of the 
Fells near a farm-house. In the field was a young fellow who had been 
doing some Fall ploughing and was just unhitching the horses preparatory 
to driving them up to the barn. He noticed Nims approaching, and 
when he realized what he had, stopped his horses and stared in sheer 
amazement. 

“Hello, Harlan,” he sung out, “what in the name of all that’s crazy 
have you got there?” 

“Say, Kime,” said Nims, coming up close to the ploughman, “I found 
this little chap in the ‘Fells.’ If you will help me out a bit there’s some 
money in it for you.” 

“Come up to the barn,” was Kime’s laconic response, as he slapped 
the reins over the horses and started them at full trot. When they reached 
the place he quickly unharnessed the horses and turned them into their 
stalls. Then, turning to Nims, he said, “What can I do for you, Harlan?” 

“I want you to keep the chimpanzee here,” replied Nims, “and let 
no one know about it outside of your family. If I am not mistaken, he 
is the little fellow that suddenly disappeared from the Zoo one night. 
If you can keep this a secret for a few days there’s a hundred dollars in 
it for you. Give him just what you eat, but watch him. Don’t let him 
escape. I have no place at home to keep him, but if you have, you’ve a 
chance to make something.” 

“I have just the place,” exclaimed his friend, excitedly, “used to keep 
pigeons, you know, upstairs, and have a place as large as a small room 


72 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


all enclosed with wire netting. Pa thought I had better take it down, 
but if it means some prize money, I’m in it for keeps.” 

“The reason I asked you to help me. out,” replied Nims, “was because 
in this locality the secret won’t get out. If I went down to Dahlberg, 
the bird man, on Main Street, he’d board him all right, but it would get 
all over town. I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he added, “you can charge 
me regular board for him — that is, a fair price, and if he’s not the party 
I think he is, I’m the only one out. But if he turns out to be my huckle- 
berry, you’ll get your board and prize money, too.” 

“Done,” exclaimed Kime, extending a huge hand, which the designa- 
tion of “paw” would better fit. 

“Watch him,” cautioned Nims, as he moved away, “and remember, 
mum’s the word.” 

“Sure,” was the hearty response of the other. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


In the Laboratory Again. 

Nims spent many of his spare hours in the Fells. Coming home one 
afternoon and striking the main road from Medway, to Granby, Nims 
came suddenly upon a small boy leaning against a stone wall fast asleep. 
Nims looked down on the little fellow with a smile, recalling his 
own care-free, childish days. 

“ Hello 1” he exclaimed softly to himself. “What’s this?” 

In the boy’s hand was an envelope addressed to a party in Medway. 
Suddenly a suspicion crossed his mind. He stooped and gently released 
the envelope from the messenger’s grasp, then with a lead pencil he 
loosened the flap, quickly and deftly. 

“The end may justify the means,” said Nims, “anyway the secret 
is safe with me.” 

It contained a curious message, and in a flash, he had his fountain pen 
out and the message transcribed on his rather soiled cuff. Another mo- 
ment and the envelope rested near the boy’s hand as though it had been 
dropped in sleep, and Nims crossed the road and crept into the bushes. 

The snapping of a dry twig under the young detective’s foot aroused 
the boy, who yawned, stretched himself, and hastened down the road. 

“That boy will come back soon,” deducted Nims. “He’s had his 
rest and he’ll try to make up time. Guess I’ll wait and see where the one 
who sent the message is.” 

Taking a small book from his pocket, he whiled away the time for 
fully an hour, when he was rewarded for his patience by the sight of his 
little friend approaching in the distance. He came up and passed by, 
and then it was that Harlan Nim’s field glasses aided him. By their use 
it was a very easy matter for him to follow the boy’s movements and yet 
\ remain unseen by him. The lad kept on in the direction of Granby till 
j he was within a mile from that town, when he stopped before an old, 
I tumble-down farm-house. A woman answered his brisk knock, and 
? through the glasses, Nims was able to note many points about her face 


74 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


and figure. Her countenance was decidedly masculine, her figure short 
and thick set and inclined to stoutness. Facing the house, and at a dis- 
tance of about half a mile from it is Bear Hill, a part of the Fells, upon 
which had been placed a small observatory. An idea presenting itself 
to Nims, he plunged into the bushes and made for this place, and after 
an hour’s work reached the summit of the hill. Sitting in the little summer 
house he watched the house very carefully through the glasses. The 
woman came out finally and went to the old well, drew a basin of water, 
and began to wash her hands. 

A few minutes later Nims slipped the glasses into the case, and with 
a look of satisfaction on his face started in the direction of Granby. 

As he mused in his study that evening there came a knock at the door, 
and in walked — Helen. 

“How in the world did — ” began Nims, but she interrupted him in 
her quick abrupt way: 

“Kindness of Madam Nims. Have you any objection?” 

“Not at all,” returned the young man. 

“Then tell me what now you have discovered regarding the robbery,” 
she returned. “Left papa at home and said I’d be back in five minutes.” 

“Here is my first exhibit,” replied Nims, “purloined from a little sleepy 
messenger boy,” and he told his experience and showed a cuff on which 
was scrawled the following: 

“Be careful before replying. Edith only admits outrage. Arthur natur- 
ally needs correction. Riches tempt Kittie K. So attend my warning. 
Call immediately on invitation, and no need telling. Very sorry Edith 
hesitates. 

Ever yours, 

Xenophon.” 

“Some newspaper scandal!” exclaimed Helen, her eyes shining like 
stars with interest. 

“Scandal! Guess not,” he returned. “Something, doubtless, more im- 
portant than that. I think it is some sort of cipher.” 

“Why, to be sure!” she cried, clapping her hands delightedly. 

But the more she looked at it the more bewildered she became. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


75 


“It is impossible to guess at it/’ said Nims. “The only way is to sit 
down, get paper and pencil and figure it out.” 

“Let me try, too,” she pleaded. So together they sat down and puzzled 
away. At last Helen gave way in despair and turned to Nims, who seemed . 
in a brown study. He glanced up and asked: 

“Got it?” 

“No.” 

“Give up?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well,” he said, quietly, “if you promise not to repeat this outside on 
any condition, I think I can give you the solution.” 

“I promise,” she answered, solemnly and sweetly, in a tone so serious 
that it turned his thoughts for a moment in another direction and a great 
yearning came into his heart. The next he was himself, as he said in a 
low tone, though his eyes gleamed: 

“If you read these sentences carefully you will note they seem to be 
about the same length. That is, they have four words in each sentence. 
This struck me as peculiar and I wrote down the first sentence and then 
the second right under. They appear as follows: 


‘Be 

Careful 

Before 

Replying 

Edith 

Only 

Admits 

Outrage 

Arthur 

Naturally 

Needs 

Correction 

Riches 

Tempt 

Kittie 

K 

So 

Attend 

My 

Warning 

Call 

Immediately 

On 

Invitation 

And 

No 

Need 

Telling 

Very 

Sorry 

Edith 

Hesitates 

Ever 


Yours 

Xenophon.’ 


“In order to fill out the line I supplied even the dash in the second 
column.” 

“But I don’t see the solution,” retorted Helen. 

“Read down,” suggested Nims, and she did so, and then this is what 
she spelled out: 


76 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


“B-E-A-R-S C-A-V-E C-O-N-T-A-I-N-S B-A-N-K 
M-O-N-E-Y R-O-C-K W-I-T-H X.” 

“Bears’ Cave” was an unknown quantity, but “Bank Money” cer- 
tainly appealed to her. 

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she cried, “it’s a message from one robber to an- 
other. It’s like a fairy tale.” 

“And the next thing I found out was that one of the robbers was a man 
disguised as a woman” — and Nims related his experience from the ob- 
servatory. 

“How did you know that this party was a man and not a woman ?” 
queried Helen. 

Nims laughed. “A man to be a successful detective has to be well 
acquainted with history, past and present. I noticed that she seemed 
quite clumsy in getting around in skirts and that she toed out exceedingly, 
which is rather unusual in a woman. A woman generally walks with 
her feet pointed straight ahead or she may toe in, but hardly ever out. 

“If you have ever been to an amateur performance given by some 
dramatic club where a number of the female roles are taken by men, 
you will notice this. The man walks about with his toes very much turned 
out and takes long strides. In fact, a good stage director will notice and 
criticise this point strongly. I did not base my judgment upon this, 
however,” said Nims. “Just let me read you a little ancient history,” 
and he pulled down an old book and read the following out loud: 

“And the Queen of Sheba answered and said to Solomon, the 
King, ‘Of a truth, I perceive thy wisdom is great and thy learn= 
ing far surpasseth that of all my wise men, my astrologers, my 
magicians and soothsayers. 

‘Now let not the King be angry or displeased if I yet put an= 
other question to him.’ 

And Solomon, the King, who hath been called the Wise One, 
answered and said, ‘Whatsoever thou sayest that will I do, and 
that which thou desirest to know will I reveal.’ 

Then the Queen of Sheba caused to be brought into the pres= 
ence of Solomon, the King, the Wise, twenty and five maidens 
and twenty and five young men, but the fifty that she brought , 
in did she dress all in the raiment ofjyouths. j 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


77 


And the Queen said unto Solomon, ‘Of these my children which 
I have brought with me twenty and five are maidens and twenty 
and five are youths. Now let the King separate the youths from 
the maidens and maidens from the youths.’ And the Kingor= 
dered water and basins and towels to be brought, and it was 
done. 'Then said the King: 

‘Set a basin filled with water before each together with a 
towel.’ And it was done. And the King commanded that the 
fifty wash each one his hands ; and some washed their hands, 
up to their wrists only ; but others did push back the sleeves 
of their raiment and did wash even to their elbows. 

Then said Solomon, the King: ‘Set aside those who washed to 
the wrists and those who washed to the elbows.’ 

And it was done. 

Then said the King: ‘Behold! Oh Queen of Sheba! The 
former are the youths of thy Kingdom, but the latter — thy 
maidens.’ ” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


The Simple Lite. 

Nims was a true child of nature. He loved both the animate and in- 
animate. 

There was a simple grandeur to him in the rock-ribbed hills and solemn 
pines, a wondrous beauty in the green fields, running brooks, and the 
unbroken forest. 

But the birds and little creatures of the woods filled his very soul with 
joy. He loved to study these little creatures which it seemed to him the 
Good Father of all had created for but one purpose, “to make glad the 
heart of man.” 

The writer’s grandmother, now gone (God bless her memory), often 
said that “bright colors were bright smiles,” and it seemed to Nims that 
the brilliant tanager, with his scarlet dress and black velvet wings, the 
blue jay with his pretty costume, the golden oriole and the robin with 
gaudy vest were but smiles of the Almighty incarnated in these feathered 
songsters. 

To his ears the chattering bushy-tailed squirrel, the caw of the crows 
in the trees in yonder pasture land, the twit of the blackbirds, the whistle 
of the whip-poor-wills, and even the hoot of the night owl was sweetest 
music. 

Whether he was gliding in his canoe down the silvery and silent lake or 
climbing the hillside, his face whipped by the yearling shoots which chal- 
lenged his right to press through the uncleared brush or sitting on the moss- 
covered stones, and drinking from the crystal spring in the Fells that never 
ran dry, or endeavoring to catch the speckled trout in some dark hidden 
pool or simply lying under the trees in the wood and watching the blue 
sky above with the white clouds floating lazily about, he realized the work 
and boundless love of God. How true is the saying that man made the 
city, but God the country! 

To reach the highest developments, mentally and morally, one must 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


79 

get back to Nature and learn her ways. No rush, no bustle, no undue 
haste, but yet a steady, irrepressible movement forward. 

Nims had any number of pets. Let us speak of two here: First came 
his dog, his boon companion on his hunting trips. Many are the times, 
early in the morning before the sun was up, before the dew was off the 
grass, while the air was cool and clear and refreshing, and all nature 
was still, he would steal off in the direction of the Fells with Jack. An- 
other pet was Daisy, his carrier-pigeon. She had taken many prizes, 
and had been the talk of the town. 

At one time, while off with a mountain-climbing club, who had been 
visiting the Fells, Nims, unable to reach home that night, decided to accept 
the hospitality of the club and stop at Medway. Attaching a missive 
to his carrier-pigeon containing a word of explanation for his mother, 
he tossed her lightly into the air. She circled about as if trying to get 
her bearing, and then set off in a direct line for Granby. In a very 
short time she gently descended into the yard and fluttered into the lap 
of Madam Nims, who was awaiting the home coming of her “boy.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


The Strenuous Lite. 

The morning following the deciphering of the message, Harlan Nims ; 
put on his hunting suit, to all appearances, for a day’s outing. But instead ! 
of a shot-gun he picked up his rifle and slipped a revolver in his belt, j 
To this he added a hunting knife and a small tin lunch box. Then, as , 
if not satisfied with his impedimenta, he slung over his shoulder the field- | 
glasses. As he kissed his old mother an affectionate good-bye, she re- i 
marked, “Ain’t you goin’ to take your shot-gun?” | 

“ No, mother,” he replied, “rifle to-day, may be bigger game, you know.” 

“Land sakes alive!” she ejaculated holding up her hands in good old- 
fashioned surprise, “I believe you’re after that fox they seen in the Fells 
a few weeks ago.” 

“I am after one kind of a fox,” truthfully declared Nims. Then he 
added, “I am taking Daisy with me and if she should bring a message 
back, send it to the one it’s addressed to. Get Billy, President Stone’s 
boy, to deliver it. He will gladly accommodate you. There is a little 
map of the Fells in this envelope,” he added, — “if any of the park police 
ask for it give it to them.” 

She promised, dazed at what this all meant, but before she could ques- 
tion him, he had given her another kiss and hug, and passed out of the 
door. 

Going to the little shed he opened the door and whistled. There was 
a scratching sound, a flutter of wings and the next moment his carrier- 
pigeon stood perched upon his hand. 

“Daisy,”he whispered, giving her some crumbs he had brought, “I 
want you to be a good girl and come along with me.” 

She cooed as though she understood him, then in sheer mischief pecked 
at his thumb. He played with her awhile, then picking her up, gently 
placed her in the big, roomy pocket of his hunting-coat and trudged 
down the road. 

“Bear’s Cave,” he muttered, as he pressed on his way, “Rock with 



^‘SHE SEEMED DAZED AT WHAT THIS ALL MEANT, BUT BEFORE SHE 
COULD QUESTION HIM HE HAD GIVEN HER ANOTHER KISS AND 
PASSED OUT OF THE DOOR.” 


« 



THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


8i 


X.” Then again: “Guess I’ll get there before, anyhow. Thinks every- 
thing safe.” Then he pondered for a moment and added, hardly above 
a whisper, “How did Holliston ever tumble to that place? I thought I 
was the only one who knew anything about it. It’s a dandy, and he’s 
a wise one.” 

“ Gad!” he exclaimed,“ I’ll get the swag sure and — I wonder what Helen 
will say — and her father.” Then he lapsed into silence. 

It was a long and tiresome tramp. “Bear’s Cave” is situated at the 
bottom of a ravine, on both sides of which the ground rises up to consider- 
able height. On one side is a rocky ledge, at the foot of which there 
used to be a dark and deep hole extending into the solid rock for some 
distance. When a boy Nims had discovered it, and had kept it from his 
companions when they played Indian. Even then it was hardly noticeable, 
as a good deal of soil each spring had been carried down the ravine and 
several young birches had grown up and hidden it from view. But it 
was in the Fall that Nims discovered it when the leaves were off the trees. 

He had seen the birches and wishing to peel off some of the bark had 
discovered back of this clump of trees a cave. 

He cut off some of the lower branches of the trees, crawled in and it 
became his secret. Later he learned from an old inhabitant that a bear 
had, years before, been shot and wounded in the Fells and had been tracked 
to this spot. Hence the name “Bear’s Cave.” To be sure, the name was 
familiar, but few people knew of its existence. It was believed to be 
simply a legend. 

The cipher letter showed that some one else now knew about it and the 
diagram was designed for his confederate. 

Certainly the discoverer must have been quick-witted and keen-sighted 
to have seen it, for the birches had fairly covered the mouth of the cave, 
making entrance impossible. 

As we have heretofore stated, it was a long journey for Nims from Granby 
to Bear’s Cave, weighted down as he was. When he struck the ravine 
he turned aside to a little bubbling spring and sitting down opened his 
lunch box, pulled Daisy out of his pocket, gave her first something to eat 
and drink, and then ate part of the lunch. The rest he carefully put 
back. 


82 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


“I don’t know but what I may need it later,” he added solemnly. Then 
he wended his way carefully and cautiously towards the location where 
he had spent so many pleasant times in his boyhood — Bear’s Cave. 

Nims was part Indian by adoption, and after a careful reconnoitering, 
decided that no one was in that vicinity. He found that one large birch 
had been cut down, but so placed back in position that to all appearances 
it seemed the same as formerly. The man who had done it must have been 
of pretty good physical proportions, for it took Nims, athlete that he was, 
a long time to move the birch so he could enter the cave. He carefully 
concealed his rifle before entering. Then putting his hand in his pocket 
he pulled out his electric flashlight and on hands and knees crept into the 
former Bear’s Den. The place seemed like a tomb, — the air damp and 
chilly. By the light of the flashlight he could see the moisture standing 
on the walls of the cave like huge drops of sweat. 

His hands were covered with moisture, and by the damp chill that 
seemed to creep into his very bones he knew his knees were likewise. He 
could feel slimy things scurrying about as he advanced. 

Nims knew that not very far away the ground slants upward and should 
be firmer and less soggy. He soon reached this spot and sat down. Now 
was the time to look for the money. “Rock marked X,” he muttered. 
“I wonder where it is?” 

Long he seached, but in vain. 

“Surely,” said he, “Holliston would have given his chief more explicit 
directions if it were hard to locate. I must find this at once or I am in 
a trap.” 

“What!” he exclaimed, pulling out his watch and noting the time. 
“Have I been here as late as this?” 

The watch said 5 o’clock. He set himself diligently to work. Suddenly 
he remembered a little jag in the cave that he used to call his “guest room” 
when he played there as a boy. Curled up snugly therein he would be 
invisible to any one entering the cave. He crawled over to the point and 
began to study the place carefully, when suddenly on a large boulder 
above him he saw a big white X staring him full in the face. For a mo- 
ment a feeling of intense nervousness came over him. It seemed a sort 
of paralysis. Could it be possible he had within reach of his hand the 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


83 


funds of the bank or was the cipher simply a hoax ? In a moment, how- 
ever, he steadied himself, rolled the boulder to one side and there, back 
of it, came upon a large bundle in a cloth bag. He seized this, opened 
it, and pulled the bundle partly out. In the blaze of his pocket flashlight 
he recognized the familiar red sealing wax and stamp of the Second Con- 
solidated Bank, and the partly erased address: 

“First National Bank, 

Granby, Mass. 

Adams’ Express.” 

The thirty thousand, safe and sound, undisturbed by the robbers, 
was in his possession and he began to picture the enjoyment with which 
he would return it, when a terrible oath startled him. 

Someone was entering the cave. 

Glancing around the ledge he unconsciously flashed his light. While 
it hid him from view, it revealed a face ghastly pale and drawn, but fierce 
and vindictive — the jace oj the opium eater jor whom he had been search- 
ing — the master criminal. 

Quick as a flash Nims knew he must show that he was armed. While 
he knew the man was a desperado, yet he would fight him fair, so pulling 
out his revolver he aimed it at the roof and pulled the trigger. The re- 
port shook the cave, echoing and re-echoing. This was warning enough. 
The ruffian left in short order, and Nims could hear him talking to his 
pal. He knew every moment was precious. Taking the little missive 
out of his pocket he placed it around the neck of the carrier-pigeon who 
trembled with excitement. It read: 

“Chief of Police : 

Come at once, Bear’s Cave. Ravine near Highland Avenue. 

Mother has diagram. Held up by robbers. Have bank money. 

Nims.” 

“Daisy,” he whispered, stroking her gently, “everything depends on 
you.” Facing her towards the light which came in from the opening, 
he said, almost fiercely, “Go.” 

There was a flutter of wings. An exclamation of surprise from outside. 
A curse — a shot — then silence. Had the dove escaped or had she been 
brought low and was the message lost? 


CHAPTER XXV. 


The Robbers’ Revenge. 

Nims now expected an attack, nor was he long in waiting. Getting 
out of the range of the bank man’s fire, the robbers tried to rake the whole 
cave with their revolvers. Crack I Crack!! Crack!!! went the revolvers, 
and spit, spat! spat! the bullets as they struck the rocky sides of the cave. 

“I ought to be more than thankful,” thought Nims, “that this cave 
has an L to it.” 

He was certainly fortunate, otherwise he would have been fairly riddled 
with bullets. 

He likewise thought it fortunate that Daisy had been let loose a mo- 
ment before this fusilade — that is if Daisy had not been shot! But Nims 
did not return the fire. Said he, “It is folly for me to shoot except to 
kill or inform those fellows I am still alive.” 

After a few minutes of rapid firing the robbers waited. Then Nims 
heard a movement at the mouth of the cave, “They think I am dead,” 
he exclaimed, “I’ll teach them a lesson.” 

Nims raised his revolver, pointed it in the direction of the sound — and 
then — stopped. 

“What a fool I am,” he soliloquized. “They can’t see me and can’t 
reach me. Why not get a good look at the fellow this time? I could 
swear it was he — but he had a clever disguise on. Why not be sure?” 

He cautiously glanced around the ledge much as the old pioneers used 
to glance from behind the trees and rocks that sheltered them from the 
fire of the Indians. 

“I’ll flash my light full in his face, then fire, and dodge back behind 
my fortress.” 

Holding the flashlight out at full arm’s length to mislead his opponents, 
he pressed the button. The next moment he chuckled to himself. “Gad! 
but they’re foxy, wanted to see if I was a dead one or not.” When he 
flashed his light it revealed to him a hastily and crudely made dummy. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 85 

The robbers had cut about ten feet off the top of the birch that Nims 
had found chopped down, had buttoned one of their coats around it, put 
an old slouch hat on top and taking hold of the trunk had slowly and 
carefully pushed it into the cave believing that should Nims have escaped 
their rain of bullets, which they doubted, he would think one of them was 
attempting as noiselessly as possible to enter and surprise him. 

Then our cave-dweller did a foolish thing. 

“Guess I’ll show them I’m not dead,” he exclaimed, impulsively, and 
aiming his revolver towards the mouth of the cave he fired six shots in rapid 
succes,sion. He regretted it sorely afterward however. 

“Blamed fool I was to do that,” he grumbled, “those men are desperate 
fellows and want to get this money. It’s my life or theirs, and I should 
have aimed to kill from the first. I do abhor manslaughter, but this 
is in my own defense and that of the community at large, so I would be 
justified. I know they would shoot me as quick as they would a dog.” 

And he was right. 

Hostilities for the time ceased. But Nims knew it only meant that 
they were spending the time in planning diabolical schemes. 

“Guess I’ll get a bite,” thought Nims, with a twinkle in his eye, add- 
ing, “seein’s it’s recess time,” and reaching into his tin box, he eagerly 
ate his luncheon. 

“Must leave some,” he said to himself, as he reluctantly closed the 
cover. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. If Daisy’s shot I may 
be starved out, unless some Park policeman happens to come around. 
But that’s impossible. No one knows of this place but myself and these 
bank wreckers.” 

Nims loaded his revolvers, and with a watchful eye ever turned towards 
the entrance of the cave, braced himself for a long and weary vigil. The 
place was cold and damp. From his knees down his limbs were benumbed. 
His hands were covered with slime and the cramped position he was 
obliged to assume for safety’s sake seemed almost unbearable. 

“Different kind of place this,” he muttered, “when I was a boy. Why, 
I brought in leaves and dried up the mud and then built a charcoal fire 
and dried the rocks. I was as cozy as a bug in a rug then, but now — ” 
he stopped in sheer despair. His position baffled description. 


86 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


Low whisperings about the mouth of the cave again attracted his at- 
tention. “Some new deviltry,” he ejaculated. 

It was true, Several objects were pulled up at the entrance and the 
two men outside seemed to work with renewed energy. 

“Guess they’re goin’ to wall me up,” he said, “so I can’t get out. But 
I can make a noise, you bet, for I’ve lots of cartridges,” and he laughed 
in his good-natured way. Then he noticed something significant and 
the heinousness of their plan dawned upon him. He actually felt his 
hair stand on an end and cold shivers run down his spine. 

He saw a small flicker of light that grew brighter and brighter. One 
of the robbers had struck a match and was about to light the heap of 
brush, which the light revealed were the objects that Nims thought were 
simply to be used to stop up the entrance of the cave. 

They had planned to smoke him out or roast him to death, anything 
in order to get the treasure he guarded. 

Nims thought quickly. He raised his revolver and pointed at the man 
bent down with his hands closed around the little flickering blaze, and 
fired. There was a cry of pain followed by a frightful curse. The light 
was instantly extinguished. 

“He’s broke two of my fingers,” he heard the fellow tell his companion. 

“You fool,” responded the other, “why did you get in his range.” 

His companion did better. Keeping out of the sweep of Nims’ revolver 
he procured a long branch full of dead leaves, and lighting it, used it as 
a torch to ignite the pile. 

Nims fired at the weak flickering blaze and succeeded again in thwart- 
ing their evil intentions. But the leader showed marvellous patience 
worthy of a better cause and again tried and failed. Finally he suc- 
ceeded in this way. He collected a large number of rocks and pushed 
them in front of the cave. This protected the fire which was made behind 
and below the rocks. He then built a wood fixe of decayed but dry wood, 
such as old tree stumps, and trunk bark, etc., and then putting on this 
blaze green bough that he had lopped from the young trees he soon had 
a thick and stifling smoke pouring into the cave. 

“Now we’ll smoke you out all right, young fellow,” he said with an 
oath. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


87 


The smoke poured into the place in huge billows. Smoke rises and 
so it filled the upper part of the cave first and then packing in more solid 
began to reach and stifle Nims. 

He bent down low. Then laid flat on his face, attempting to get what 
fresh air he could, but even that was rapidly being displaced by this new 
and poisonous element. 

“So they are going to smoke me out,” thought Nims, “like an animal. 
They’ll keep this infernal stuff pouring in here till I either come out 
and get shot down or suffocate in here.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


A Message From Nims. 

Madam Nims, about to enter the house, stopped a moment on the 
flagstone that was placed before the front door and looked anxiously 
down the road. She was waiting the home-coming of her “boy.” 

Harlan Nims, so generally prompt, had failed to put in an appearance 
at the regular time, and she began to worry, thinking some harm had 
befallen him. 

“Surely,” she said to herself, “he ought to have let me known before 
this. He took Daisy with him and she should have been here long ago.” 

Following this little soliloquy she started to reenter the house, planning 
to get supper ready. She had the old-fashioned, common sense notion 
that work is the best antidote for anxiety or fear. Suddenly her attention 
was attracted by a slight girlish figure approaching from the Stone estate. 
Her eyes were not so strong as they had used to be, but she believed that 
the newcomer could be no other than Helen Stone. She loved the girl 
with the same motherly affection that she had for Harlan. 

Like all mothers she thought her son was one of the best of men, and 
she had hoped that Helen likewise might some day agree with her. 

The girl came up in a whirl of excitement, her lovely eyes all excitement, 
her cheeks flushed with her hurry, and her raven hair tumbled by the breeze. 
She did not appear very much like the tall, dignified young lady who had 
received so many compliments at the Dramatic Club in Medway a few 
weeks ago. 

“Oh! Mrs. Nims,” she exclaimed, “is Harlan in and have you heard 
anything more regarding those robbers? You know,” she added, “I 
think Harlan a wonder. When those Boston detectives were at my 
house and Harlan promulgated some of his theories they laughed at him, 
and even papa smiled, but you know they have come out right so far, 
and I do believe he is going to get that $5,000 reward and — I hope 
he does an3rway.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 89 

Madam Nims listened with interest. She was very proud of her son 
and enjoyed anything that might be said in his praise. She was^yery 
much opposed to flattery, but believed in compliments, provichrg they 
were truthfully spoken. / 

“No,” she said slowly, “I haven’t heard from Harlan. went away 
early this morning and said he was going off hunting. I asked him if 
he was after the fox that had been seen in the Fells recently and which 
I read about in the paper, and he said yes, he was after ‘one kind of a 
fox.’ He has been gone all day and I have just begun to get a little anxious 
about him.” 

“Don’t you worry about Harlan,” replied Helen soothingly, “he can 
take care of himself all right,” and her laugh rang out merrily. 

“Well,” replied her elderly companion, with a slight shake of her head, 
“I don’t like to have him get mixed up with this robbery. They’re mighty 
dangerous men and I’m af eared they ain’t got much respect for law or 
order.” 

“Don’t let that disturb you at all, Mrs. Nims,” responded Helen. “I 
know that he will be here before long and then we will see what else he has 
learned.” 

Just then there was a flutter of wings and down dropped a white object. 
It was the carrier pigeon. She lit on the shoulder of Mrs. Nims. 

“A message from Harlan,” Helen said, and rushed forward so quickly 
to see what the news was that she almost frightened the dove out of its 
little life. 

Mrs. Nims took the little carrier pigeon in her arms and stroked her 
gently on her head saying, “There, there,” as a mother might say to a 
baby, “we won’t do you any harm, we only want to find out what message 
you have.” 

“Oh! look!” cried Helen, and she pointed to a place where the white 
feathers of the bird were stained a dark color. “She has been wounded.” 

It was only too true. But they little knew that the one who fired the 
shot was also the one who was at this time doing his best to capture Nims 
in the Bear’s Cave. 

Madam Nims noticed the little envelope around the dove’s neck and 
gently untied it and passed it to Helen. It was addressed to the “Chief 


90 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


of Police” and marked “Deliver at once.” Then Mrs. Nims told Helen 
what instructions Harlan had left. 

“I V/ill deliver the message myself,” exclaimed Helen, and she bade 
Mrs. Nims good-bye, rushed across the fields, ordered the hired man to 
put her pony in the dog cart and in a few minutes was flying towards 
Granby Centre. 

About fifteen minutes later the chief of police, together with six mounted 
policemen on horse-back, galloped into Mrs. Nims’ yard, and asked her 
for Nims’ plan of the Fells. 

The poor old lady was quite overcome. She did not understand what 
it all meant, but she went and got the map he had left with her and with 
shaking fingers passed it to the officer. 

Then she added, with tears in her eyes, “ Don’t let anything happen to 
‘my boy.’ ” The officer passed his gloved hand over his eyes as he replied 
in a voice that was cheerful, but nevertheless seemed quite broken. 
“Don’t you worry! we’ll bring him home safe and sound,” and everyone 
of the officers as they wheeled saluted the frail, bent little old lady who 
stood on the piazza and watched them as they rode away. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


A Race For ‘Life. 

‘‘It is a race for life,” exclaimed the chief, then added to his companion, 
“Nims is a mighty bright fellow. Though he has been laughed at and 
sneered at, I believe he has got the making in him of a splendid detective. 
I believe he has run those robbers down. Clever chap to think of carrying 
his carrier pigeon with him and have the message all prepared to send to 
us. Miss Stone told me the bird had been shot at. That pigeon will 
get lots of free advertising all right and maybe get another prize at our 
next Bird Show. We will have to make the bird a sort of mascot same as 
the eagle is of our country. 

“So Nims has all the bank money in the cave with him. Well, he is 
all right,” he exclaimed heartily. “I would rather see him get that reward 
than get it myself.” 

Never in the history of the county had men galloped so fast through 
the Fells as they did that night and the hoofs of their beasts reverberated 
again and again and could be heard for quite a distance. 

These dumb animals seemed to realize their part in the game and that 
much depended upon them for they seemed to strain every nerve to carry 
their riders with all speed. 

When about there the chief pulled in his horse and signalled the others to. 
do likewise. He then gave orders for his men to dismount and they walked 
down the road; leading their horses by the bridles and making them follow 
along the side of the road where the grass was soft and acted as a cushion 
to their feet. 

The chief, when he was about upon the Bear’s Cave or where he thought 
it was, suddenly stopped and listened. Like some dog on the scent, he 
snuffed the air. Then with an imprecation, he exclaimed: 

\ “I smell something burning. These miserable rascals are trying to 
smoke the boy out of his hole.” 

Slowly he crept along till at last he saw two figures bending in front of 
the cave and building a brush fire. Quick as a flash the chief ordered 


92 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


three men to watch the horses, and taking the other three men with him 
plunged through the brush and in the direction of the two. He had given 
orders before to the men with him not to fire “until you get close upon 
them, unless, of course, they start to run.” 

Everything would have gone well but for one thing. The chief’s 
horse was by nature very nervous, and did not like being held, but 
seemed to be as horsemen term it, “heady.” When seized by the bridle 
he would at once throw up his head. One of the policemen in the excite- 
ment grasped his bridle with that of the other two horses and he instantly 
threw up his head with a snort, stamping the ground in rage. This was 
not lost upon the figures by Bear’s Cave against whom the other three 
officers were leading an attack, and they instantly dashed off in two different 
drections. 

“Shoot!” exclaimed the chief. “For God’s sake don’t let the rascals 
give us the slip,” but the robbers escaped, aided by their thorough knowledge 
of the ground. 

“Jim, we must get the boy first,” commanded the chief to his forward 
man who had started in hot pursuit and he led the way. With his heavy 
club he knocked aside the brush and the blazing embers and going to the 
mouth of the cave called Nims by name, but there was no response. 

“ Gad,” he exclaimed, “I hope that we’re not too late. Bring a rope up, 
Jim,” he said to one of the policemen. They did so and tying a loop of 
it securely around the ankle of his boot, he said, “ I will crawl in and see 
if I can not get the fellow. Give me your flash light. If I don’t come out 
in a few minutes, just pull me out. My! but this smoke is thick,” and he 
plunged in. 

A few minutes later he gave the signal and they pulled him out. He 
held in his arms the unconscious form of Harlan Nims. 

“Peter,” he said to one of the older patrolmen, “see what you can do for 
the lad.” 

Nims had some object grasped tightly to his breast which it was impos- 
sible to remove. It was held in a grasp of iron. 

The chief examined it as well as he could and by the seals saw that it 
was the money that had been stolen from the First National Bank of 
Granby. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 


93 


“Plucky little fellow,” exclaimed the chief, “he thought more of that 
cash than he did of himself.” 

Nims, after considerable exertion on the part of Peter, recovered. His 
first movement was towards his belt for his revolver, but the chief had 
removed it. 

“So you thought, old man, that we were the robbers, eh?” he said, as 
Nims opened his eyes. Harlan sat up and laughed. 

“You did get word, after all,” he said, in his good-natured way. “I 
guess you came just in time,” he added solemnly. “Guess I did not fall 
asleep more than two minutes ago. Got the fellows, have you?” 

“No,” replied the chief, “wish I had. Could you identify them if 
you saw them again?” 

“Yes,” responded Nims, slowly and a little stupidly, for he had not as 
yet got over the effects of the smoke. “I can do it, and I can tell you 
where you can get them — at least one of them and I have got the proofs 
at home.” 

As they approached the house the chief of police asked courteously, 
“Have you anything for me to do, Mr. Nims, any arrests?” 

“Yes,” replied Nims, “I want you to arrest immediately ” 

he stopped and whispered a name in the old chief’s ear. The latter started. 

“Surely you are mistaken, Mr. Nims.” 

“No.” 

“And have you proofs?” 

“I have.” 

“Then I’ll do it.” 

“The best time would be tomorrow,” cautioned Nims, “he did not 
think any one could see through his disguise and would not think of quitting 
the town.” 

“And the other man?” 

Nims spoke so all could hear. 

“Arrest in the last house out of Granby on the Ravine Road the woman 
I spoke to you of some time ago. That is, the man in woman’s clothes. I 
think you will find him there, but as an added precaution send out a gen- 
eral alarm for the arrest of a man with two broken fingers on the left hand. 
You can’t miss him.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


Nims and the Reporter. 

The doctor had given Nims orders to keep in the house for a few days. 
His face was worn and haggard. His eyes were in a bad condition due 
to the effects of the smoke. His head ached and the evil effects of his 
siege had produced a feeling of nausea. Added to this, quite a severe cold 
had set in, caused by exposure to the damp air of the cave. 

It was at this time that Nims’ splendid physique stood him in good stead. 
His physical being laughed at the attacks of fever and disease. 

“You’re a lucky boy,” declared the doctor, as he closed his watch and 
removed his fingers from the young man’s pulse. You ought to be thank- 
ful for the gift of such a splendid constitution.” 

“Just stay indoors”, he added, “take this medicine, and we’ll have 
you as well as ever before long,” and with this parting advice the doctor 
left. 

A few hours later the bell rang and Bangs, the Granby Times reporter, 
came in. 

“How are you, old man?” he exclaimed, “just dropped in to see you a 
moment and see how you are coming around.” 

“That’s what all you fellows say,” replied Nims, with his usual hearty 
laugh, “and then you interview us for two or three hours.” 

“Honest Injun!” exclaimed Bangs, “I’m not here for an interview. 
Why should I ? I’ve written you up and the whole town is wild over your 
exploit. We had to get out three extra editions, press been running two 
days steady. Couldn’t wait to see you,” he added, “and it was such a 
scoop. Think of it — a local paper beating out the big Boston dailies. 
Struck the chief soon after he brought you home. Gad! he couldn’t say 
enough in praise of you. Said you had the nerve of men who have seen 
forty years’ service.” 

“Your paper will be called one of those ‘yellow journals’ if you keep 
on,” responded Nims with a smile, “but for Heaven’s sake read me what 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


95 


you have written so I can refute all the statements at once. My glimmers 
have gone back on me or I would myself.” 

Bangs was very proud of his work and boasted of his ability as an “ink- 
slinger” so he pulled out a copy of the Granby Times and begun to read 
his account in a most dramatic tone. 

It was headed: 

“Nims Turns the Trick on Boston Detectives. 

Beats Them at Their ovtn Game 
Gets on Trail of Bank Robbers. 

Finds Bank Funds. 

The Fight in Bear’s Cave.” 

It was a most lurid account and smelt of the cheap dime novel. It 
described Nims starting out on hunting trip for “big game,” his 
striking the trail and following the footprints of the robbers to Bear’s Cave, 
the message sent by the carrier pigeon for relief while he held them at bay, 
Miss Stone’s hurried drive through the streets of the town to the Police 
Station, the rush of the posse of officers to the rescue at Bear’s Cave, the 
attack, the flight of the robbers, the rescue. 

Then followed the comments of different interested parties — inter- 
views with the chief of police and the different members of his staff, 
and talks with the cashier of the bank and President Stone of the same 
institution. To the last statement Nims listened with real interest. 

It was, no doubt, the only truthful statement, for the president had 
furnished a typewritten one. It read: 

“I have and always have had the highest regard for Mr. Nims. Not 
only has he been a valued assistant in the bank from the first, but outside 
has been of great help to me personally. He looks at everything from a 
broad view point, he grasps situations quickly. He is a man of action 
with remarkable intuitive faculties, which enable him to solve the complex 
things of life as readily as most men do the simple ones. Recently he 
rendered me a service that wifi make me his lifelong friend. I consider 
him an honor to the community.” 

The account wound up with a slap at Boston detectives, made very 
odious comparisons, and finished with this significant statement: 


96 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


“It is believed that Mr. Nims holds the key to the situation which will 
lead to the identification and arrest of these desperadoes. Startling de- 
velopments are expected shortly.” 

“Now, just before I leave,” said Bangs, “I wonder if you have any 
further information you could give me ?” 

“I’ve been expecting that from you,” retorted Nims, and then with 
his infectious laugh, “why do you ask me? You seem to know more 
about this matter than I do, judging from these lurid accounts.” 

“But you must know who — ” queried the reporter. 

“Perhaps I do and perhaps I don’t,” interrupted Nims, “but that will 
come later.” 

And that was all the satisfaction the reporter could get. 


CHAPTER XXIX 
For the Sake of One. 

Nims leaned back in his study chair again and in a moment was fast 
asleep. He must have slept there for hours, for when he awoke he heard 
the clock strike five. 

“Just about this hour two days ago,” thought Nims, “I was in a peck 
of trouble. Perhaps something may happen now.” 

N(/ sooner had he finished this mental observation than the door-bell 
rang. He heard his mother greet someone, a door close, and then silence. 
A little later he heard steps in the hallway, the faint clinking of china, 
preceded by the aromatic smell of toast nicely browned and the cheering 
fragrance of freshly-made tea. Then someone opened the door of his 
room. He was too tired to turn his head, but he said to himself, “Mother 
is so good. She has not forgotten me. That is always the way — my 
supper before hers.” He heard the table moved gently towards him and 
thought how nice it was when one was too tired to open one’s eyes and yet 
be conscious of the little sounds that indicated thoughtfulness and loving 
care. Some one was bending over him and then — 

“Harlan,” said a sweet, mischievous voice, “Harlan, supper’s ready.” 

He opened his eyes in amazement. He knew that voice. It was 
Helen’s. 

“Why! where did you come from?” he exclaimed in surprise. “I 
thought — it was mother.” 

“I’ll call her,” she retorted, pursing up her cherry lips with a mock 
grieved expression, “seeing you are so disappointed.” 

“No, Helen, don’t — I — want you,” he said, the tears coming into 
his aching eyes as the full purport of his words dawned upon him. “You 
know I don’t have you to supper very often,” he added, with a smile. 

“Very well,” she said, appearing relieved, “I didn’t want to intrude. 
I was rather bold to invite myself.” 

“You are always welcome,” he said, and added, again, “always,” and 
the look that accompanied the last word brought a glow of color to Helen’s 
cheeks. She was glad the light was not turned on. 


98 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


“I told papa,” she said, after she had placed a chair for herself on the 
opposite side of the little table, “that I should take supper with you. 
Of course I felt rather timid in ushering myself unasked into the presence 
of the celebrated amateur detective, Mr. Harlan Nims, whose name has 
appeared in almost every newspaper in the country, but — ” 

“Why?” he questioned, with a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes. 

“Oh, I always feel embarrassed in the presence of greatness,” .-he 
responded, roguishly. 

Nims laughed — a full, boyish laugh. 

“Are you sure you are in such a presence. Miss Stone?” he asked, 
still smiling. 

“I wish you would call me Helen,” she requested. 

“Then you must call me Harlan,” he insisted. 

“But I supposed that since you become so great — ” 

“Great fiddlesticks! I never became so.” 

She made a little gesture of deprecation, lighted the lamp, and they 
sat down to supper. She chatted away, poured the tea out of the little 
silver teapot, cut his buttered toast up into squares, opening up some 
jelly she had brought from home to spread on it. She didn’t eat very 
much herself, not much more than a bird would or some other creature 
that had wings, thought Nims, forgetting in turn to eat. She had to call 
his attention to the fact. He seemed to prefer to watch her, to listen to 
her chatter and hear her silvery laughter. He acted as though he was 
in a dream, and did not dare to speak or move lest the vision before his 
eyes might suddenly fade away. 

“You haven’t eaten any at all,” she exclaimed, as she packed up the 
dishes. 

“I’d rather hear you talk,” he said simply, and then added, “I wish 
you’d sit a little nearer. It’s hard for me to talk — doctor doesn’t want 
me to very much.” 

She moved her chair closer. 

“Do you know,” she said impulsively, “I am awfully glad you bested 
those detectives.” 

“Are you?” he asked. 

“Yes, I am, and they all laughed at your theories, all but we.” 



“THERE WAS A FLUTTER OF WINGS, AN EXCLAMATION OF SURPRISE 
FROM OUTSIDE, A CURSE, A SHOT, THEN SILENCE.” 




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THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


99 


“I am grateful;” his look proved it. 

“Did you know I carried Daisy’s note to the chief?” she added. 

“That’s what was in the paper,” he said. “I did not know how true 
it was.” 

“Yes, I was talking to your mother and Daisy came fluttering down 
with the note. I just ran home and got Billy to hitch up the pony and, 
my! how he went for the police!” 

“Did you know, Helen,” he said, slowly and solemnly, “that you saved 
my life?” 

“Your life!” 

“Yes, a few moments more and it would have been all up with me. 
The rascals did their best to shoot me, but a cleft in the cave saved me. 
Then what did they do but try to smoke me out. The police came just 
in time.” 

Her beautiful eyes were full of tears, her lip quivered as she asked, 
more to herself than to him, “Oh, if they hadn’t come?” 

“I wouldn’t be here,” he answered quickly. 

“But why did you risk your life?” she asked tremulously. 

“For one purpose.” 

“To capture the robbers?” 

“No.” 

“To get the money?” 

“No.” 

“To win the $5,000 reward?” 

“No.” 

“To win” — she was about to add “success?” 

“No, Helen,” he said, brokenly. “It was to win 

Her head sunk lower and lower till it rested on his shoulder. He reached 
out his hands and grasped hers and folded them about his neck. She 
did not resist. Then he said in a low, tender voice: 

“Helen, I have always loved you. From the very first I declared that 
you belonged to me, but when I returned from college I saw a change, 
not in your attitude, but in your position in the world. Your father, during 
my absence, had made considerable money. He was rich. I was poor. 
He looked with more favor upon the young men who had money. They 

LOfa 


lOO 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


were the ones whom he would naturally deem eligible for his daughter’s 
hand. When the bank robbery happened I saw my opportunity to make 
some money. Detective work has always appealed to me. Deduc- 
tions and analysis are the very breath of my life. I saw a chance to try 
for the reward offered, but it was a greater reward I worked for. When 
in Boston, I got tips of a crooked stock deal. Most of them seem to start 
from there and, taking the chance of getting into serious trouble, I sold 
out your father’s stock on my own responsibility as it was going down. 
This belief was based on information I had gleaned by hard work. I won 
for him. All this desperate effort was not for glory, praise, monetary 
reward — but for you, dear.” 

The little head raised itself from his shoulder, the pair of arms tightened 
their grasp around his neck and a pair of lips timorously pressed his, as 
a sweet, small voice said, “Harlan, love, it was not necessary to do this 
to win me. My heart has always been yours.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 


Identifying Criminals. 

A WEEK later Harlan Nims was called up on the ’phone by the chief 
of police: “I have arrested parties that you asked me to and would like 
to know if you are ready to identify.” 

Nims replied, “I am under the doctor’s care and he has forbidden me 
to leave the house, but if you will bring the parties up here, I shall be glad 
to identify them and to give you, in full, my deductions. I would 
suggest that you bring them to-morrow as I want to get all the necessary 
data together.” 

This was agreeable to the chief. 

Nims then called up on long distance the manager of the Boston Zoo 
and had a short talk with him. He promised to be present on the follow- 
ing day. 

Next morning about ten o’clock quite a crowd called upon young Nims 
which included President Stone and his daughter Helen, Cashier Preston, 
and Bangs, the reporter of the Granby Times. A little bit later the chief 
of police, with two other patrolmen, rang the door-bell and were ushered 
into the parlor and sent up word that they had the prisoners with them. 
Nims, after arranging all the evidence on his big table in his den, leaned 
back in his morris chair and gave orders to have the men brought in. As 
they entered, Nims’ friends gave an exclamation of surprise. The first man 
that attracted their attention was tall and rather fine-looking, with gray 
hair, sharp features, and deep-set, dark, brilliant eyes. It was Franklin 
Graves, broker of Medway. 

Behind him came a short, swarthy, thickset individual with rather dark 
complexion. 

The chief said, “Mr. Nims, can you identify these two men as connected 
with the robbery of the Granby National Bank?” 

“I can,” quietly responded Harlan. 

“You will then proceed to make public your evidence.” 

“It will be necessary for me to begin at the very beginning and give 


102 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


you a few of my deductions and a few of my discoveries,” replied the 
amateur detective. 

“The recital of my tale,” continued Nims, “will prove conclusively 
how unprincipled some stock manipulators are, how unfitted for high 
positions of honor some Congressmen are, how unscrupulous some ‘note 
shavers ’ are and will make known the methods adopted by bank breakers. 
The man who planned the robbery which resulted in the murder of the 
watchman, was a master criminal whose record and whose photograph 
you will find in the rogue’s gallery under the number of 22,783. He 
has been searched for in almost every country in the globe and is wanted 
by the police in nearly every large city in the United States. By his quiet, 
unassuming ways, his apparent generosity and open-heartedness he has 
won his way into the hearts of the people wherever he resides, and the 
least breath of suspicion against his moral character would be most in- 
dignantly denied. That man is none other than the one whom you have 
arrested, Franklin Graves, a confirmed opium-eater, and the man who, 
disguised as broker in Boston, is the brains of one of the biggest syndicate 
of rascals doing business all over the country. His ability in this line 
proves him a genius worthy of a better cause than that of robbing banks 
and murdering watchmen. 

“Another one not directly connected with the bank robbery but morally 
responsible for the plundering is one who holds a position of respect and 
honor — the gift of the people of his district — who have looked up to 
him as a man of unimpeachable integrity and trustworthiness not for a 
moment to be doubted. 

“He has used his high position for the sake of manipulating a very 
ordinary security until it had attained an unreal and inflated value, his 
plan being to unload on the market and rob the people of hundreds of 
dollars. 

“His scheme was simply one for his own enrichment. To further 
this he involved thousands of people in his district, among them a number 
of prominent bank men. That man is none other than Congressman 
Hart, who represents your district at Washington, D. C. His plan would 
not have been discovered for years if it had not been blocked by that 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 103 

noted outside operator, Tom Harris, who gained inside information and 
at once began an attack upon this security. Tom Harris, I believe, is 
as square as a die, and this recent move of his shows conduct most praise- 
worthy. 

“The syndicate known to fame as the Mabel Consolidated Copper 
Company, fearing that the attacks of Harris might precipitate matters, 
planned to buy in at once all holdings their stockholders ordered their 
brokers to sell. This necessitated an immense amount of immediate 
cash, to secure which every money-lender in Boston and New York was 
interviewed. The syndicate, still feeling they had insufficient funds to 
finance the scheme and unwilling in their greed to let in any others to 
share their immense profits, at last interviewed a notorious money-lender, 
A. Levy, of the firm A. Levy & Low, in their own city. 

“His terms, of course, were not easy ones, but as they needed money, 
were finally accepted. I suppose Levy himself was in a quandary where 
to raise that amount, but the question solved itself this way. While de- 
positing at his bank he heard one of the clerks mention the fact that a 
large shipment of bills was to be made to the Granby National Bank 
that evening. On his return to the office he had some conference with 
Franklin Graves, and no doubt innocently mentioned the fact of this 
big shipment of bills, at the same time mentioning his need of money. 
While he is too cautious to do anything that might implicate himself, he 
is too greedy to let an opportunity go by which might benefit him if the 
risk were assumed by another. 

“When Mrs. Stokes was robbed, this gentleman — pointing to Mr. 
Graves — was the one who turned the trick. He was very nicely dis- 
guised, but I remember him not only by his height but by his general 
appearance. Of course, I had to get more evidence and I believe he 
simply came in to spy upon the bank. He had been informed of the 
shipment of bills to that institution, and wanted to find out the best means 
of breaking and entering. I believe he simply took advantage of his 
opportunity as I have stated before. 

“That night when I went into the wash-room to clean out the ink-well 
which I used on the books, I picked up a small, sharp instrument, a hypo 
similar to those used by physicians. I simply laid it away without any 


104 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


comment. Saturday the watchman is supposed to wash up the floors and 
otherwise clean up the bank, and in examining the floor Monday I dis- 
covered a little vial containing a solution of morphine. I was looking 
for that. This was to me absolute proof that the man who had been in 
the bank Saturday also was present Sunday. 

‘‘These are the instruments of a morphine fiend. I believe that a glance 
at the face of that gentleman,^’ pointing to Mr. Graves, “will convince 
you that he is such. After looking over the bank and getting the lay of 
the land, he was ready for business. Unfortunately for him, his most 
trusted and daring lieutenant was recognized by a Boston detective and 
arrested as he was about to take the midnight train from Boston to Granby. 
The other members of the gang were more fortunate. Upon examination 
of the blood found in the bank under the microscope the corpuscles showed 
that it was that of some member of the ape family. The corpuscles of 
this animal are like in shape to those of man, but differ slightly in measure- 
ment. While in my study by chance I cut out a clipping regarding the 
disappearance of Joe, a certain intelligent chimpanzee who had been exhib- 
ited at the Zoo. I now thought I was on the track of the third party, for 
who could control him but his own trainer. I got a description and it 
tallies perfectly with this fellow (pointing to the other prisoner who sat there 
sullen and defiant). My deductions regarding Joe proved true as I located 
him soon after in the Fells. 

The fact that there were no marks of a ladder at the rear window and that 
it was impossible for any one to be let down from the roof by the rope 
as the roof of the house was conical in shape, proved to me conclusively 
that the monkey climbed up the building to the window and by use of a 
case knife opened up the window and gained entrance. The watchman, 
however, saw him and tried to stop him by stabbing but the monkey en- 
raged by this change in the program made him pay his life as a forfeit. 
He then descended the stairs, opened the main door and the robbers came 
in and finished their work.” 

“How did the watchman meet his death?” exclaimed all, as Nims 
paused for a moment. 

Nims rose, went to his safe, got something and slowly held it up that 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


105 

all might see he held a small box with a flap of wood over one end. It 
was the identical one he had shown Helen a few nights before. 

She noticed, however, he handled it carefully and that it was strongly 
tied up with stout twine. 

“This case,’’ said Nims, “might be called the Mystery oj the Sandal 
wood Box.*^ 

Stepping to an empty table he brought a glass case not unlike that used 
as a show counter by store-keepers. Excusing himself he stepped out to 
his rabbit hutch and brought in a small rabbit and put the little fellow in 
the case. 

“I hate to do this,” he said solemnly, for by nature he was very tender- 
hearted. 

Then he carefully cut the cord around the box shook it violently and plac- 
ing the end with the wooden flap inside of the glass case released the shutter. 

To the surprise and the horror of some out of it flew as in a rage a great 
spider, piebald in color, a dirty reddish and yellow and mottled with black. 

He rushed ferociously at the rabbit and sunk his fangs into the poor 
little creature again and again. 

“This,” said Nims, “is a spider of the trap-door family which is found 
in one of the South Sea islands. Prof. Clemens of the Natural History 
department in Harvard informs me he knows of only one other species 
and that he saw in the Smithsonian Institute in Washington. It, however, 
was much smaller and inferior in every way. They built in the ground 
little trap-doors like the ones most commonly known, but this variety 
prefer birds and small animals to flies. When disturbed and thoroughly 
aroused they have been known even to attack men. 

“This creature I found at the top of the cell where the little Jew peddler 
was locked up and I believe it was also the cause of the death of the watch- 
man. This ends, I believe, The Mystery oj the Sandal-wood Box,^^ 




THE CIGAR BUTT. 


A Bit of Clever Deduction. 

The purser’s face was a study in emotions. Chagrin, anger, mortifica- 
tion, disgust, passed over his mobile face in rapid succession. Surely, 
there was goodly cause. 

It seems that every Friday night the treasurer of the company took this 
boat from New York to Stamford, Conn., where one of the company’s 
mills was located. 

He always carried with him a little, insignificant, black leather handbag. 
It contained the pay envelopes of the employees of the Stamford Mills. 

It was his habit to come aboard the boat a few minutes before the gang- 
plank was hauled ashore; go directly to the side door that opened into the 
purser’s office; leave the bag containing the cash with him, take the key 
to stateroom No. 26, which was by custom reserved for him, and, with a 
sigh of relief, ascend the stairs. Then for a while all responsibility for 
its safety fell from his shoulders like the scriptural mantle of Elijah, and 
dropped on the broad ones of Fred Ashton, the purser. When the last 
stateroom key had been passed out and the little ticket window finally 
closed, the safe was opened and the bag and other valuables were put 
therein until the next morning. 

To-night it was different. A few minutes after the treasurer of the 
Franklin Company had passed up the steps there had been some altercation 
and general mix-up about berths among the steerage passengers. It was 
the custom of the steamboat company to give away free beds to these poor 
creatures who could ill afford to pay for staterooms. A numbered slip 
was given to each, entitling the holder to a mattress, blanket and a sort of 
bolster pillow. Attracted by the noise and general confusion, the purser 
had stepped out for barely a moment, slamming the door, as he supposed, 
behind him, only to return and find the bag containing the Stamford Mills 
pay-roll gone. No wonder his features showed his varied feelings. He 
had always prided himself upon his discreetness and caution. This time 
he registered a fiat failure. 


io8 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


There was one consolation, however, the bag was certainly aboard the 
boat, for when he stepped out of his oflSce the boat had left the dock cer- 
tainly fifteen minutes before. But how to proceed! A thousand ways 
suggested themselves; on reflection, they all seemed impractical. 

Suddenly a thought — the passenger stateroom list! He ran his stubby 
finger up the long lines of names, but the longer he glanced over them the 
more futile he realized was such action. Suddenly he stopped and whistled 
as he read out loud, “Stateroom Fifteen — Harlan Nims.” 

“Gad!’’ he ejaculated. “I’ll bet a ten spot that’s one of the old boys 
who was on the eleven when I was captain at Princeton. I could swear 
that was the fellow who played right guard. He was a bit of detective, 
too, in college; said he was going to make that his life work. 

“Yes, the room was engaged two days ago. That’s the reason I did not 
meet him.” 

A few minutes later the porter knocked at No. 15 and passed in a card 
on which was printed: 

Fred Ashton, 

Purser. 

New York and Prov. Steamship Co. 

On the face of it was scrawled in the purser’s handwriting the following: 

“Nims. Report at once. The captain oj the eleven would like to 
speak with you.” 

Fred had guessed right. The order brought an immediate knock at 
the purser’s door and a mutual recognition. 

Nims was tall, with a strong face, though rather too sharp and keen to 
be called handsome. His eyes were deep-set and brilliant. His nose 
rather large, his forehead high and prominent, his mouth firm, but pleasant. 

Ashton told his story rapidly, Nims meanwhile chewing away at an unlit 
cigar, with his eyes half closed and dreamy. 

When Ashton had finished, Nims asked him a few pointed questions 
and learned the following facts: 

In the first place, the door of the purser’s office opened into the main 
hall, from which the stairs ascended to the cabin. The ticket window 
was at right angles to the door and opened onto the quarterdeck. Between 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 109 

the hall and the quarterdeck was a partition with two large swinging doors. 
The passenger coming aboard and entering the starboard side would, leav- 
ing the gangplank, step upon the quarterdeck, march up to the purser’s 
office and secure his stateroom, then facing to his right, pass through the 
doors and up the stairs. Thus, anyone passing through the doors could 
not be readily seen from the quarterdeck. It would be very easy for such 
a one to step into the purser’s office, secure what they might and pass up 
the stairs. The only danger to this would be meeting some one coming 
down the stairs or entering the hall through the doors from the quarter- 
deck. 

Secondly. He learned that Ashton suspected no one, certainly not the 
porters, for they had all been busy carrying baggage upstairs, save one 
who was out on the quarterdeck when the purser stepped out there. 

Nims then lapsed into silence again, which, knowing his moods, Ashton 
did not interrupt. His eyelids were almost closed, though through the 
slits one caught a brilliant gleam which showed he was fully awake. Ten 
minutes later Nims suddenly opened his eyes, removed his much-chewed 
roll of tobacco, yawned and remarked with a twinkle in his eye : 

“Well Ashton! So you’ve got into the pernicious habit you used to 
warn us about in college.” 

“What’s that?” asked Fred, rather surprised that Nims should forget 
the all important subject in hand. 

“Oh! smoking.” 

“Smoking!” exclaimed Fred, in disgust, for he had never used the weed, 
and when captain of the eleven in college had been most strongly opposed 
to its use by any of his players. “You know I don’t smoke.” 

“Strange,” observed Nims, languidly looking around, his delicate nostrils 
quivering like a hound upon the scent. “I haven’t lit my cigar as yet 
and the room is quite full of cigar smoke.” 

“Oh, hang your deductions,” replied the other. “I allow no smoking 
in this office while I am here.” 

“Perhaps so, but the window’s rather small and there seems to be no 
particular draught,” responded Nims. “Then, again, if it did we’d find 
most of the smoke thickest in one corner. On the contrary, it seems 
pretty evenly distributed around the room. The smoker held the cigar or 


no THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


laid it down, as I notice the room is full of dry smoke rather than wet. 
Dry smoke comes from the end of a cigar, the wet variety is blown from 
the mouth. Any one with a trained sense of smell would note this as 
readily as you yourself distinguish between the smell of dry wood and wet.” 

“Look here!” exclaimed Ashton, angrily, jumping to his feet. “What 
has this smoking to do with this robbery? That’s what I want to get at.” 

“Considerable, maybe,” answered Nims. “Let’s see — 

“Deduction No. i — The party who took the valise was of the masculine 
gender and a smoker, and used it to good advantage. A woman hides 
behind her fan or handkerchief. A man can cover a good deal of agitation 
behind a cigar. 

“Mr. Burglar follows behind Mr. Victim, puffiing vigorously at his cigar. 
Mr. Victim calls for his key, so does Mr. Burglar. Mr. V. then wheels 
about, passes through the folding doors, knocks on the purser’s door and 
drops his bag on the table. Mr. B. meanwhile stands outside in the lobby 
or quarterdeck (as you call it), apparently listening to some drunken sailor 
who is amusing a few loafers with his cheap wit. In reality he is slyly 
watching Mr. V. through the window and sees him deposit his bag on the 
table. He then mixes up the numbered berth tickets of two Italians and 
starts a quarrel between the two. He sees my beloved football captain, 
the purser, rush out of the box office, noting that the door does not slam to. 

“The doors connecting the stairway with the quarterdeck I notice, swing 
either way. I observed that as I came aboard so when Mr. Purser swings 
out on one he swings in on the other, unnoticed by that individual. 

“During all this time he had held his cigar in his hand. If Mr. Purser 
should suddenly return, why, he would get a puff in his face, masking 
Mr. B. He enters, reaches for the bag and glances quickly out on the 
quarterdeck through the window. At the same time he reaches for the 
bag he unconsciously sets his cigar down. Coast clear, two quick steps 
and he is mounting the stair. 

“No doubt he was aided by some confederate. It is certainly reasonable 
to presume so. Such a one could more than aid him. He could back up to 
the window and signal his partner inside: ‘All right; go ahead.’ 

“The cigar, meanwhile, is forgotten, but it smoulders away in a thin, 
blue line till it distributes itself quite evenly. Walk where you will in this 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. in 


office the smell is about equally distributed. If it came through the window 
the natural draught would blow it over in this corner. Then, again, it 
would not be just cigar smoke, but would be pipe, cigarette and cigar 
smoke, a composite odor contributed by every gentleman, drunk or bum 
on the quarterdeck.” 

Fred Ashton looked in amazement at these rapid deductions. 

“Nims,” he said, “you’re all right! But where’s the cigarV^ 

“Where was the bag?” demanded Nims. 

“Right here,” replied Ashton, “on this table.” 

“Very good; then your cigar ought to be about a yard away, if my deduc- 
tion is right. The robber reaches for the bag, extending his right hand. 
According to the law of opposition, as promulgated by Delsarte, his left 
hand unconsciously takes an opposite direction. He would rest it on this 
chair or — 

“Hello! what’s this?” 

Nims stooped down and picked up a cigar butt. 

Ashton started, but again his old, cool, logical nature asserted itself. 
“Nims! You’ve got the cigar, but where is the man who had it?” 

Harlan Nims looked long and carefully at the bit of cigar end. He 
smelled of it, examined the ashes, undid a bit of the wrapper. Then 
he picked up a deep soap dish from the washstand in the corner, filled it 
with water, dropped in his little raveling, leaving it to soak a bit. This 
done, he sought the arm chair and, lighting his own macerated cigar, 
puffed away in silence. 

Again Fred Ashton saw he did not care to be disturbed, so he remained 
silent. After about an hour’s meditation Nims got up, took a bit of paper 
and floated the cigar leaf upon it as some naturalist would mount a bit of 
sea fern, and, turning to Ashton, who stood watching him in amazement, 
said: “Stay here, Fred, till I come back,” and left the office. 

Fred fixed up his accounts, locked up the safe and waited. Only once 
he was bothered and obliged to leave the office, and that was to shake into 
sensibility a drunken fellow who said he was a drummer for a cigar dealer 
and had opened up an expensive box of cigars in the barroom and insisted 
on every one taking one. In fact, he had become most insistent in his 
drunken demands, and Fred nabbed him just as he had pulled a cigar 


II2 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


out of the vest pocket of one well-dressed gentleman and substituted his, 
adding in a thick voice: “Shay, old fellar (hie), take thish. Your smoke 
ish (hie) no goodsh.’’ Strange to say, the party attacked rather relished 
the exchange. 

Two hours later Nims dropped in. In his left hand he carried a pipe 
and under that arm an enormous tobacco box; in the other a bag — the 
payroll hag for Stamford Mills. 

The purser’s hair fairly stood on end, while his bulging eyes told more 
plainly than words his utter astonishment. 

For a moment he seemed dazed as one in a dream, the next he had 
sprung forward, only to be waved away by a gesture from Nims. 

“Keep cool, captain!” he chuckled; “keep cool! It’s in my hand now;” 
then he added, reassuringly: “Everything is here all right. Lock hasn’t 
been picked as yet.” 

With a deep sigh of relief Ashton sunk into the nearest chair. “But 
how — ” he exclaimed. “How!” 

“Well, Fred,” replied the other, laying his prize comfortably near the 
leg of his arm chair and carefully rolling a slice of tobacco in the palm of 
his hand and pressing it into the huge bowl with his long artistic fingers, 
“let’s see! It was only a bit of cigar end, but I guess it did the trick. 
We’ll go at it scientifically. Let’s see where we left off. 

“In the first deduction we discovered the thief was a man and we made a 
pretty fair guess at his mode of procedure. Now from the cigar we get the 
following : 

“Deduction 2. An exceedingly nervous man. About a third of the cigar 
was chewed, showing the man had a habit of rolling it around in his mouth 
as he smoked. 

“Deduction 3. A methodical or neat man — as the ends were carefully 
cut, not bitten off. This I learned by carefully floating them out on a bit 
of paper. 

“Deduction 4. A man of some wealth — or a spendthrift. This I learned 
when I recognized the brand of cigar. It was, to say the least, a rather 
expensive one. None but a man of such condition as I have mentioned 
would use this brand. It is reasonable to believe he had more smokes 
with him. A fast smoker is usually an extensive smoker. It takes three 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 113 

cigars to bring to him the soothing and quieting effect a slow smoker will 
get out of one. He knew he was on a trip. He knew by experience this 
brand could not be bought aboard the boat. Hence it might be possible 
to locate your man by looking for another of the same brand. 

“Deduction 5. It was doubtless lit just before coming aboard. I have 
bought and smoked these cigars myself and know their shape and length. 
The part chewed plus the part left unburned deducted from what was its 
original length would leave only about a fifteen-minute smoke for its 
owner — for a nervous man even less. 

“Deduction 6. His assistant (had he one) could likewise be located by 
the same brand of cigar. If he treated him to a smoke do you think his 
partner would stand for a cheap cigar ? Would he not reason that if his 
chief did not care to share his good cigars with him he might fail to share 
his booty equitably and want the big end also ? 

“Finally — 

“Deduction No. 8. He had a peculiar habit — he held the cigar on the 
right side of his mouth instead of the almost invariable position — the left 
side. This I noted from the teeth marks on the butt. Perhaps the sight 
of his left eye was defective or he may have had a troublesome tooth on his 
left side which constant sucking at his cigar would cause no little irritation. 

“So you see, my dear Ashton, with such a mental picture at hand it was 
very easy to pick your man. 

“When I left you I suspected an accomplice. If the thief had a con- 
federate with him he would doubtless be watching the purser’s office to 
see what move might be made to recover the stolen bag. I surmised cor- 
rectly, for as I came out of the office I caught a glimpse of a face peering 
at me through the glass window of one of the connecting doors. Its 
owner was on the quarterdeck, to all intents innocently smoking, and 
lounging carelessly against the wooden partitions, but at such an angle 
that he could command a view of the main hall stairway and the purser’s 
door. But then again. This might only be a curiosity seeker. I decided 
to be sure. 

“I had planned to ascend the stairway, but changed my mind, and 
passed through the doors and entered upon the quarterdeck. The man 
in question at once went into the barroom, on the opposite side. As I 


1 14 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


passed through the door I began to berate the steamboat company in gen- 
eral and the purser in particular. Told every one I had ordered a state- 
room ahead and found them all taken. Said I had just been in and given 
the purser a blowing up. 

“This was said loud enough so that it was heard all over the boat, and 
even by those at the bar. Then I drifted in there, ordered drinks for the 
crowd, and in the confusion emptied my own in the spittoon. This gave 
me a good look at my man. He was a short, stocky, low-browed fellow, 
with as evil a face as one cares to meet. But I had caught him off his 
guard. I stood with my back to one of the large electric lights so I could 
see his face while he could not see mine any too well. 

“After turning around, I slipped out into my room, put on a simple 
disguise, and playing the part of a drunk, started to descend again. This 
time I was in luck. As I came down the stairs I looked through the glass 
doors and singled out my barroom friend. He was talking with some 
one, but how he had changed. The lounging, careless manner was gone. 
He was the personification of alertness and devilment. He was talking 
earnestly, rapidly and spasmodically — and to whom? To the man I 
wanted — the chief. 

“I recognized him at once. Why not? I had already in mind his 
likeness. A well-built man, careful in dress and deportment — a man 
with massive head, intellectual forehead, bushy eyebrows, deep-set eyes, 
aggressive jaw, but restless mouth. 

“He was continually chewing away at his cigar, which, as yet, he had 
not lit, although he held a match in his right hand. Every once in a while 
his eye would sweep the place, though his head did not move an iota, 
except when he glanced to the left; then he was obliged to turn it slightly. 
That was his blind side. 

“I said his confederate spoke spasmodically. He did. He would look 
furtively about to see if any one was noticing, and if not, he would hurl 
some information at his chieftain. But should any eye be turned his way 
he would relapse into his old indifferent way. When they separated, soon 
after, he sauntered to one side of the quarterdeck and his assistant to the 
other. 

“This was my turn. I slipped down and entered, as I wanted 


THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL-WOOD BOX. 


IIS 

to see the kind of cigars both were smoking. It didn’t take long 
to find out. The next move was to locate his sleeping apartments. I 
knew he’d turn in pretty quickly. I should have to act in like manner. If 
the bag was in his stateroom he wouldn’t let it stay there alone very long. 
One of the Italians had a violin, and, with the confidence known only to the 
intoxicated, I asked a loan of it, saying I could play. I borrowed some 
rosin he had and pretended to run it over the bow, at the same time getting 
off some of the sickest drunken twaddle I could think of. It caught the 
crowd. In the general hilarity that followed I rubbed the rosin across the 
blade of my knife and got quite a handful of it nicely powdered. Then 
when I started to play I did it so clumsily that the owner of the violin 
fearing his instrument would be ruined, grabbed it away from such impious 
hands. That was what I wanted. I staggered over to the corner where 
the big fellow was and dropped my rosin about his feet. I then took to 
smoking as fast as I could, taking care to drop ashes in his path. Not 
very long after his understudy left, bidding all a good-night, and went 
upstairs to his room. A few minutes later Big-Chief yawned and followed 
suit. I waited a few minutes and then left myself, with a grand salute 
from all on board the quarter-deck. 

“It was easy work. The rosin fortunately adhered to the heel of his 
shoe and the cigar ashes on the velvet carpet of the saloon revealed the 
direction and destination of my ‘quarry.’ 

“Thus it didn’t take long to locate his sleeping apartments, room No. 
49 — an outside room. With my badge I got the second mate and three 
deckhands to assist me. I reasoned that his partner had a room next to 
him. It was either No. 47 or No. 51. I expected a little change of hands, 
so instructed my helpers to first knock twice on stateroom No. 49, and 
then, if there was no response, after a few seconds to break in all three. 

“This would give Big-Chief time to do his little trick. I crept outside 
on the promenade, laid down under the window of No. 49, and waited. 
I gave them twenty seconds to wait. 

“It was pitch dark outside. The seconds seemed hours. Then came 
the knock. No response. Again. This time the window was softly 
opened and I heard a low whistle. Window of stateroom No. 47 was opened 
immediately and I saw a bag being quietly passed out of the window of No. 


ii6 THE MYSTERY OF THE SANDAL WOOD BOX. 

49 in the direction of No. 47. I at once appropriated it. Then came 
the crash. When I came back to the main cabin they had the bunch 
nicely handcuffed and T had the bag.’ ” 

Ashton sprang forward and grasped the young detective’s hand. “How 
can I ever repay you?” he said. 

“You needn’t,” replied the other. “In fact, I am under obligations to 
you. I made a cool five thousand on that deal.” 

“How so?” inquired Ashton, in surprise. 

“Why, I have caught one of the cleverest counterfeiters in the country. 
‘Big Tim,’ as he is called. I had my suspicions when I saw him. I think 
he was planning to leave the country. In fact, he is being looked for 
now on this continent.” 

“Your deductions are certainly marvelous! and all on a cigar butt, tool” 
exclaimed Ashton. Then, musing a bit, “I wonder who that fellow was 
who was so free with his choice cigars.” 

“Oh,” drawled Nims, “I know him well, and you do, too, I suspect.” 

“What’s his name?” 

“Harlan Nims, American detective.” 








Deactdtfied using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: .... 



1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Twp., PA 16066 
(412)779-2111 


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